Moments and Minutiae
by Estrelle Buscador
Summary: Collection of oneshots and drabbles about Merlin, Arthur, and the rest. #31 - "The old man sat on the splintery steps of his home, a cup of steaming tea perched on the saucer on his knees. He no longer was impatient, he was too tired."
1. Touch

Greetings Readers! This is my first Merlin story, and also the first in this collection of oneshots. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

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As he looked down at Arthur and Gwen holding each other close, an entire gamut of emotions rushed painfully through him. Relief at seeing his friends safe and well, sadness at the mix of grief intermingled with joy on their faces, a feeling of smug satisfaction that those two had _finally_ stopped being idiots about their feelings for one another. And, much to his frustration, jealousy.

Not jealous of one or the other, but jealous of what they had together. Jealous that, through all the problems and difficulties, they were able to touch and physically comfort the one they loved. Merlin's eyes took on a melancholy cast as he looked over his friends, and he forced himself to turn away so that they couldn't see the tears glinting in his eyes. As he walked up the stairs in the palace, into the secluded privacy of his room off of Gaius' chambers, he allowed himself to finally focus on what he'd been shoving back during the whole Save-Arthur's-Skin-Behind-the-Scenes-Again. _Freya._

_I should consider myself lucky,_ he reprimanded himself, _I mean, I got to see her again. _Despite Freya's promise to repay him for what he had done, Merlin had never expected to see the beautiful girl again. He never doubted her intent, but rather her ability to do so. But the shock and panic in seeing the glass smash had so quickly given in to relief and unadulterated joy at seeing her again that it had made it difficult to breathe.

But just seeing her wasn't enough. Just looking at her open, lovely face and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke his name made him want to take her into his arms and never let her go. His fingers had fair ached with the need to hold her hand and brush the tear from her face – but he was too worried that disturbing the surface of the pooled water would be enough to banish her forever and instead contented himself with just looking at her and listening to the voice he thought he'd never hear again. But of course, he couldn't lose himself to that enjoyment, he had work to do, to help Arthur, and Freya was able to help him do it.

And in the end, once again, he had saved the day. Once again, he kept his secret safe, saved Arthur, and got none of the credit and none of the glory. In the earlier, prat-Arthur days that would have stung, but now he was more content to help his friend and help both of their destinies along than to get his rightful credit, most of the time. But this victory had stung all the same; he did not begrudge Arthur his praise or Gwen, but he wished that he could have held his love too.

In the safety of his bedroom, he finally let a few tears slid past his eyes. Relief but mostly grief and bitterness seeped from his eyes, dripping from his fingers onto the mussed bedspread. _She is fine. She is at peace. So why does it hurt so much?_

He could hear the door to the main chamber open and close, and heard Gaius bustling in to start concoctions for those who had been wounded in battle. "Merlin?"

Merlin hastily wiped away his tears and went down to join him.

It was when he was riding to where he would lay the blade (which had somehow been labeled as Excalibur in his head) to rest when it occurred to him. Maybe he could not touch her, maybe she could not come to see him when she liked, but there was one way where he could be with her again.

_Technically,_ he countered to himself as he edged his horse away from the stone where he'd placed the sword, _there's two ways, but the other's a bit too macabre for my taste. 'Sides, Freya'd kill me._ The horse began to gallop as they reached the main path, far from where he had placed the sword, but he made no effort to slow her down. Frankly, he was much more eager to reach their destination than she was.

So eager, in fact, that he completely missed the slight exhalation of triumph from far behind him on the main path, or the fluid motion of the rider's horse as it followed him down the path.

The night was still. So still that the perfect orb of the moon reflected clearly in the dark waters of the lake, and the whole place seemed to glow with an enchanted light. Distractedly, Merlin dismounted and tied the reins of his horse to a nearby tree, giving a perfunctory tug of the knot before he cautiously stepped forward towards the waters of the lake. After all the rush of the ride, he could only slowly walk now, his breath catching in his throat and the heartbeat pounding in his ears as came closer, ever closer to his goal. Kneeling almost reverently at the edge of the shore, he leaned down and brushed his fingers across the top of the water.

The night was warm and still, and if Merlin closed his eyes he could just imagine that the soft, smooth warmth of the water was Freya's skin. Not her hands, which had been blistered and chapped from her struggles in the cage and from her transformations, but the smooth skin of her face and of her lips as they pressed against his.

An owl hooted balefully from across the way and Merlin snapped his eyes open to see the dark waters of the lake and his heart sank. He hadn't believed, truly, that the water was her skin, but the illusion was almost overwhelming. This was the only way he could _feel_ Freya, the only connection she had to this earth besides the memories crowding around inside his head.

Without thinking much about it, he worked off his boots and stepped out into the lake. The water was cooler than its surface had appeared, and he shivered as the goosebumps rose on his skin. He ignored them and continued on undeterred until the water lapped around his waist. Then he let his arms fell down to the surface of the lake, feeling the mingled warmth and coolness seep into him and trying to reach out for…something.

Minutes passed. It was only after his arms had fully relaxed into the water and his breathing had subconsciously eased into the pattern of the wind blowing through the reeds that he realized that he couldn't feel what he was hoping for. If Freya was here, and he had faith that she was, then she was clearly slumbering, waiting for the time she felt needed again. _I need you now,_ Merlin muttered to himself, but knew better than to try and disturb her. After what she'd been through in this life, she deserved whatever peaceful rest was granted her, and he loved her far too much to disturb that. So Merlin simply stood in the water, thinking and being close.

Watchful eyes peered from beneath one of the thick trunks bordering the lake to see the young man standing still and silent in the waist-deep water, with the halo of the moon surrounding him. They crinkled in confusion and thought before disappearing completely.

In the mixed exhilaration of victory and the bitter pang of Morgana's betrayal, Merlin's absence had been surprisingly easy to miss. It was only after everyone had cleared up their armor and horses, with Gwen following close behind (to help, she said, but she seemed more occupied in watching the knights and Arthur as though she believed they'd disappear if she looked away), that they noticed the lack of his snarky, yet wise-when-necessary chatter and reassuring presence in the background.

Gwen had begun to worry, but Arthur hastened to remind her that Gaius had needed help earlier with some potions and had probably pulled Merlin in to help. The others had been surprised but not overly concerned; it was common for Gaius to haul Merlin in for help and probably catch up with him after the battle. However, once Arthur had gone up to rest in his chambers, he had seen the bedclothes folded back and dinner placed on the table – but no sign of his manservant. Gwen had already run up to check on how Gaius and Merlin were faring in the physician's chambers, and she looked as confused as he did as he walked quickly (not running, of course he wasn't running) inside.

Gaius, in an odd contrast to the younger people, did not seem at all concerned about his apprentice's whereabouts. "He just needs some time alone. It's been a hard time for all of us, and surprisingly enough even he likes to take time to _think_!"

It was an old joke, and the laughter was more out of a kind of relief than of actual humor, but Arthur noticed a serious glint in the old physician's eye. He had an idea that Merlin was doing something more than just thinking, and from the pleading look in Gwen's eye, she was thinking the same thing.

"He was rather…quiet when we got back." Gwen said thoughtfully as the two made their way down to the stables. "He seemed happy, but then his face grew all serious." She shook her head. "I thought he was just tired."

"I'm sure he's all right," Arthur reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder and gripping it. "He's probably just trying to skip out on all the polishing he's going to have to do now that the battle's over." Gwen shot him a teasing glare, and Arthur held out his hands. "Sorry."

Gwen reached up on her tiptoes and kissed the side of his face. "All right, but if he needs to talk…"

Arthur smiled down at her. "We'll make sure that he does."

He made sure that she found a comfortable room for the night, not wanting her to leave the security of the castle for her home that late in the evening, and as soon as the door closed behind her, let a contemplative scowl cross his face. _Is Merlin all right?_

Once everything had been said and done, the manservant had been incredibly quiet and thoughtful, no prattle, no clumsiness. He just stayed on his horse, silent and in another world, automatically steering the horse where it needed to go and not speaking to anyone. Arthur had put it down to fatigue but now he worried that it might be something worse than that. As much as he complained about Merlin's lack of propriety, snarky comments and general lack of fear for Arthur's title, at his core he appreciated it. More often that he cared to admit, he had to keep a smile from crossing his face at Merlin's irreverence and his genuine desire for friendship. And, to much his surprise, he found that Merlin dropped more and more gambits of wisdom when he needed it most. Not that he would admit that yet, anyway.

So what was the matter with him? Certainly he was tired, but there seemed to be more than exhaustion in his gait and eyes earlier that day.

It was that strange look in Merlin's eyes that steeled Arthur's resolve. With stealth born of years training to be a knight, he slipped into the stables and secured his horse. He wasn't sure where Merlin was going – Gaius had not been particularly helpful when he'd asked after seeing Gwen to bed – but he was certain he would be using the main path.

It was not much more than an hour's ride from the city when Arthur heard the telltale clopping of hooves from just ahead. Stilling his horse's ride to a walk, he listened intently and heard the noise getting farther from there, not closer to the city. It would not be difficult to catch up.

If it wasn't for the distinct red neckerchief peeping out under the shadowy moonlight, or the familiar horse carrying the rider, Arthur might not have recognized Merlin for all his stiff posture and stone-like expression. Arthur had first had the impulse to call out to his friend, but stifled it, choosing instead to follow silently and see what was bothering him.

The lake was beautiful and still, and the idea of taking Gwen out there for a picnic once all the insanity had died down popped into his mind, but he became distracted as he saw Merlin dismount and head towards the water. He crept down to a tree and peered around the bark, watching as Merlin dragged his fingers across the surface of the lake, his eyes closed as though he were trying to sense something or resolve himself. Arthur's heart nearly stopped as he saw Merlin kick off his boots and beginning to wade into the water. From what he remembered of the lakes in these parts, they could be treacherously deep and nearly impossible to maneuver out of when it was dark and difficult to see. _Is he trying to –_ Arthur wondered and then stopped. Merlin would never do that – no matter how Arthur liked to joke at him, he knew Merlin wasn't a coward. _But that look in his eyes…_

Something held him back as he watched his friend walk deeper into the water until it reached his waist. Merlin then reached out his arms, and Arthur nearly rushed in to haul him out before he did something stupid. But Merlin seemed simply content to float his arms on the top of the water, his eyes still closed and his posture still and silent.

And then suddenly, his posture crumbled. His shoulders drooped and then began to shake. Arthur frowned, puzzled. He had never seen fatigue hit like that, but then heard the heaving breaths and sobs that were accompanying it. Merlin was crying.

The sounds of the sobs hurt as though they were being ripped out of his own throat. Arthur had _never_ seen Merlin like this before, so sad, so upset. It clashed incredibly with his usual happy-go-lucky attitude and his occasional calm, serious bouts of advice. _What happened?_

Merlin spoke, although his word sounded more like an exhalation of breath than a fully formed word as it floated across the calm surface of the lake. "Freya…" He shook his head. "I wish that I…I wish that I could have…"

And then he surrendered to the tears again, and Arthur's heart ached at the visible pain in his friend's shaking shoulders. He almost walked out, but the moment seemed too sensitive, and if he walked out he might break it. So instead he waited patiently for his friend to finish his tears and make his peace with whatever he was seeking.

He missed the growing peace on Merlin's face as the water, seemingly of its own volition in the windless night, lapped against his open palms. He didn't the whisper as Merlin opened his eyes and looked to the center of the apparently empty lake.

"Thank you, Freya."

However, he did see Merlin pass by and mount his horse before kicking it in the sides towards Camelot. He followed his friend home through the night and even shadowed him through the castle until Merlin arrived at Gaius' chambers, only returning to bed once he was sure his friend was all right.

It is entirely possible that the barbs that Arthur traded with Merlin the next morning were quite a bit less harsh than usual. It is also possible that he threw a roll instead of an apple at Merlin when he insulted him, and that he might have done better aiming if he'd been turned around with his eyes shut. But that certainly would have not been influenced by what he'd seen the night before. Truly.

Merlin smiled a secret grin to himself, remembering the glimpse of a certain prince he'd seen out of his periphery as he was about halfway home to Camelot the night before. He knew better.

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A/N: That's the first! I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions or requests, please let me know!

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	2. Questions

Greetings Readers! Here's the second story of this collection. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: Reveal fic, post-season 4 spoilers, humorxhurt/comfort

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters. If only that were true.

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"Why?"

The black-haired young man looked up into the other man's face, and his face assumed a peculiar expression. It was neither a smile nor a frown, but seemed to have the most poignant parts of both. "That's a bit of a loaded question, Arthur. And vague…what do you mean?"

The man on the other side opened his mouth but no words came out. The sitting man became more solemn and walked over to where the other was standing. "Why I have magic?" His fingers wound themselves around the bars separating them, and his gaze looked tired and old as he looked past them to meet the other's eyes. "Why didn't I tell you before?"

Merlin really had to work harder on restraining his impulses. In the past, they had certainly saved Camelot and Arthur more than a few times, but they had caused a fair share of heartache too. And it looked as though this had finally broke it. Everything.

"Arthur, I have magic."

There was no good reason that Merlin had to do it right then. Camelot wasn't in peril, Kilgharrah hadn't told him that he needed to reveal his magic to fulfill his destiny, he hadn't been caught out with his eyes flashing gold. He just couldn't stand the lies anymore – couldn't stand deceiving his friends and Arthur especially, even if he had the best intentions for doing so – and it just burst out in the middle of a meeting of the knights of the Round Table. Admittedly not the best of places, but those impulses did whatever they pleased.

There was only silence after those words. All the knights and Gwen sat gobsmacked, and Gaius nearly fell out of his chair with the shock that Merlin had revealed the secret without telling him first. In fact, he had really fallen – except for the gold flash in Merlin's eyes that righted the chair and proven the truth of his admission beyond a doubt.

For once, even Gwaine was silent. And Arthur – he had stood and simply stared at Merlin, who, after several minutes of unresponsive silence of the others, gave a resigned sigh and quietly left the chamber without another word.

Then everybody got moving. Gaius began breathing rapidly, Gwen looked torn between tending to him and running out after Merlin, and all four of the knights sprinted down to the open door. "He's gone!" Elyan exclaimed, looking shocked.

"But he couldn't have disappeared!" Leon exhaled. They turned to look at their king, who had dropped down onto his chair with a look of dawning comprehension.

Gwaine stormed toward him, his hand automatically going to the hilt of his sword. Percival strode forward to intercept him, but not before the brash knight had slammed both of his hands on the table. "What is wrong with you?" He bellowed. Arthur looked up at him. Percival managed to pull the other man away, although the look on his face bordered on complete agreement with Gwaine's shout, but not before Gwaine began fumbling with his gauntlet.

"How could you do that to him?" Gwaine yelled again. "How could you just dismiss him like that?"

"Gwaine," Leon began, walking towards him, "Arthur didn't do-"

"Exactly!" Gwaine shot Arthur a look, man-to-man. "Didn't do anything! Merlin's still Merlin, magic or not! All that does is make him a bit stupid and a lot more brave than even I knew. He fought in a place and for a place that would kill him as soon as look at him!"

Gwen's eyes began to tear up. "Arthur knows that!" She looked up. "Don't you, Arthur?" Her pleading tone belied the certainty of her words.

Arthur seemed to snap back to himself. He stood up and looked Gwaine straight in the eyes. "Find him," he said calmly but regally. "And bring him here."

Something in Arthur's eyes made Gwaine stop fighting and he tore out into the corridor, his brother knights following closely behind. Gwen looked torn about leaving Gaius, but her worry about Merlin – the look on his face as he left was frighteningly dead – led her into the search as well. Gaius, looking incredibly old, rose to join them, only to be stopped by Arthur's hand on his wrist. "Wait." Arthur's voice softened, "Please Gaius."

Gaius understood the request in the man's eyes; he'd known them since the boy was an infant. "What is it, sire?"

"I want to know. Tell me."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"No!" Arthur said, looking annoyed but amused somehow at the same time, "I mean, why did you lock yourself in the dungeon?"

They hadn't been able to find him anywhere. Gaius had scoured the entire castle, Gwen had been searching throughout the whole village, and the knights had gone through the surrounding forest and villages, trying hard not to worry Merlin's mother in the process. No one had expected to find him locked up in the dungeons – none of the guards had been aware that anyone was even down there.

_I might need to look in our guard-screening process,_ Arthur thought, _this is beginning to get ridiculous._

Merlin gave him a more relaxed, Merlin-like grin in response, although his overall expression seemed more guarded than usual. "Well, you know me. I aim to please."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And who are you expecting to please by locking yourself in the dungeon?"

"Well, the guards for one," Merlin replied almost cheekily, "might as well save them the trouble of having to drag another prisoner down here – that must get exhausting." His face became more somber, and his eyes dropped to his boots. "You, for another."

"What?" Arthur managed to choke out.

"Well, keeps you from having to lock me up yourself. Now what specifically happens next to me is up to you, but I took care of the first part." There was something of a joke in his voice, but his eyes seemed to be growing increasingly worried and wet, despite his best efforts. "For what it's worth, Arthur, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I will always consider you my friend, no matter what."

Arthur's heart both soar and sank at that. _Why does everyone think that I would – _"Idiot." He replied.

Merlin's head shot up. Arthur continued. "I know everything, Merlin – everything. Gaius told me." He shook his head. "You really think that I would kill you. After all we've done together? What you've done for everyone?"

For once, Arthur got the delight of having rendered Merlin completely speechless. It was only for a few moments, but Arthur still treasured the victory. "You mean?"

"I mean, get out of there, you idiot. It's hardly going to improve my reputation to have my Court Magician locked up when I announce him to the court." The two shared a genuine smile, and the eavesdroppers (the knights and Gwen had absolutely no shame when it came to checking up on their friend) all sighed in silent relief. Arthur brusquely looked around. "Blast, we need to get the keys. Hang on while I-"

He was interrupted by the quiet sound of the cell door opening on its own, and whirled around in time to see the flash of gold leaving Merlin's eyes. There was an impish grin on the newly appointed Court Magician's face as he sped past his king. "Who needs keys?"

Arthur gave a bark of laughter and followed.

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A/N: And that's the second story. I hope you liked it!

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	3. Realization

Greetings Readers! This oneshot came from a suggestion from TigerTiger11 regarding the first oneshot. I hope that you like it!

Warnings: After season 4, angst/hurt/comfort

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

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"Oh, come on, mate. Have a go, then!"

Gwaine's exclamation was punctuated by a very hearty slap on the shoulder that nearly sent Merlin plunging headfirst into his tankard of mead. Years of being around the boisterous knight only just prevented Merlin from crashing into the bar, and he straightened up, shooting his friend a half-hearted glare while massaging his aching shoulder. "Go at what?" He asked confusedly.

"What d'you think?" Gwaine barked with amusement, turning his friend around on the bar stool and pointed, with a finger quivering slightly with overindulgence, in the corner. "The girls, mate. Look at them – you could have any of 'em you wanted with just a crook of the finger.'

Merlin gave a very Arthur-like snort and rolled his eyes before returning to his tankard. However, neither Gwaine nor the rest of the knights of the Round Table who had joined them noticed the slight blush rising in his cheeks and began roaring with laughter.

It had been calm for the most part in Camelot for the past few weeks, and to the knights that was as much a victory as coming out of a great battle as the victors. They felt it a genuine cause for celebration and had gone out to one of the local taverns, dragging Merlin out along with them. Even Leon, who was the very model of knightly propriety in and out of chainmail allowed himself to relax enough to let the mead soften his mind and mood. His bark of laughter was almost the loudest.

"Go on," Elyan grinned shamelessly, pushing on Merlin's abused shoulder, "don't keep the ladies waiting."

The knights, for all their teasing and slight drunkenness, were being totally serious. Ever since the group had gone into the tavern, Merlin had been attracting all sorts of admiring looks from the barmaid and several other young women, both those serving and being served. Although Merlin liked to complain in his snarky way about how the handsome prince – now king – got all the girls, he never seemed to notice how several servant girls in the castle and women out in the village would cast admiring glances after his tall form and relaxedly handsome face as he walked by. That admiration made it strange that Merlin never seemed to have a love life. Arthur had Gwen, Gwaine had several admirers with his forwardly flirtatious behavior (and just as many slaps from unflattered females), and even the other knights had been seen escorting or in light conversation with those of the fairer sex. Merlin had no one.

But maybe he was just oblivious.

In that case, it was the job of his brother knights (for although he was not _technically_ a knight, they all considered him their brother) to help the oblivious man out.

Merlin very sagely crossed his eyes at Gwaine before returning his attention, although his previously cheerful expression suddenly seemed plastered on and his eyes had become very somber. Gwaine would later blame the alcohol for missing both of those as he further pushed the matter.

"How can you miss them?" Gwaine grinned, "That whole lot has been makin' sheep's eyes at you since we've been here." He pushed the younger man forward. "Go on, mate, how can you be so cruel to them?" The other knights chuckled good-naturedly and joined in urging Merlin forward with the waving of their tankards.

"I'm not interested." Merlin's words and posture were stiff, but the others didn't notice.

"Ah, come on…"

"Leave it, Gwaine."

"Just one, then," Gwaine continued obliviously, "come on, mate, you need a girl-"

"No!" Merlin thundered, slamming his tankard down onto the bar, the mead sloshing out of the tankard and all over the slightly sticky wood. If his friends hadn't been so shocked, they might have noticed the gold flash in his eyes, or that the mead had jettisoned from the tankard with more force than could be considered normal. As it was, all they noticed was how Merlin began breathing heavily, his grip so tight on the handle that his knuckles were white.

Then suddenly, it was over. Merlin released the handle as though it had burned him and backed away from the bar. He muttered an abrupt, "I'm sorry," although it was hard to see if he was apologizing to the knights or to the barmaid for the mess, and quickly dropped some coins on the bar before rushing out into the night.

The knights stared after him. Some of the girls who had been admiring the manservant began swooning about how _tortured_ the handsome young man was. The knights got over their shock and sprinted to the door, nearly throwing their payment onto the bar in their haste.

They also nearly knocked over the king as they ran out the door.

"Have you seen Merlin?" Gwaine and Arthur asked at the same time, and the way they both drew back would have been comical if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"He just left." Gwaine said.

Arthur gave a frustrated snort. "The one time I can actually catch him at the tavern, he's gone." He was about to start a familiar rant about the apparent drinking problem of his servant, but the looks on his knight's faces stopped him. "What's the matter?"

"Merlin," Leon said calmly, "We think something's wrong."

Arthur looked around with his hunter's eyes and noticed the footsteps on the path leaving Camelot. "Let's go," he said in his most commanding voice, "He can't have gotten far."

As it turned out, Arthur was wrong. They had been walking for more than an hour before they had managed to get close enough to Merlin to hear his footfalls although they didn't catch a glimpse until they were a bit further away from the city. Merlin slipped from the path and passed quickly between the trees towards what appeared to be a large lake. Arthur stiffened with recognition, but the knights continued forward, although they hung back just behind the trees, watching as Merlin neared the edge of the lake.

Merlin sat down at the shore, his arms hugging around his chest for warmth although it was not cold. Unlike his other visits to the lake, he did not make an effort to touch the water, instead staring blankly over the surface of the lake for something none of the others could see.

The silence seemed to stretch out agonizingly, but then the silence was punctured by a sound that was much more painful to the eavesdroppers' ears. Sobbing.

Merlin's eyes appeared to be dry, but that did not diminish the intensity of the dry sobs that made his entire body shake. He hid his face in his hands in an attempt at comfort and at muffling the sound, but it appeared to not be accomplishing either goal. The knights stared at each other. They had never seen Merlin like that before.

They knew he had a compassionate heart, and would bear the grief and pain of others as though it were his own, but they didn't understand this. What had happened to make him like this? As they searched mentally for an answer, they all came to the same unsettling conclusion – they knew next to nothing about Merlin.

They knew he was brave and loyal, and that he would willingly lay down his life for Arthur and for them all. He cared about others almost to the point of insanity, and they all trusted that, as long as Arthur had him by his side, everything would turn out all right. But Merlin did not simply exist as a servant to Arthur or an ally to his friends – he had his own story, his own history and grievances. And it was upsetting that even those closest to him had no clue about it, beyond the love for his mother and the loss of his father.

Before the knights could come up with a plan, Gwaine stumbled forward, emboldened by spirits and a desire to make things right with the first true friend he'd ever had. Merlin jerked upward and spun around without getting up, his hands scrambling up to brush any remaining tears from his face. "Gwaine! I-"

Gwaine flopped down beside him, slinging an arm around his friend's shoulders. "What's the matter, mate? Why'd you run off like that?"

"I'm sorry," Merlin said weakly, looking down at the ground.

"Don't worry about that!" Gwaine barked, although he became more serious. "I just want to know what's wrong. Princess being a prat?"

Arthur made a snort of irritation but stifled it enough so that only the knights heard it, all trying desperately not to laugh at the look on their king's face. They all smiled genuinely as they heard Merlin laugh. "Nah."

"Then what is it?"

Merlin looked back out over the water. "It's…complicated.'

"Is it 'cause we were trying to find you a girl?" Merlin stiffened slightly and so Gwaine continued. "Why'd you mind? D'you already have a lady?" Merlin stiffened much more noticeably. "That's it, then!" Gwaine cried, "And shame on you for not introducing me earlier. When do I meet her?"

Merlin had wound their arms more tightly and his legs drew up against his chest. "You don't."

"Ah, c'mon," Gwaine slapped him on the back. "Why hide her from us?"

"She's dead."

The absolute deadness in his voice made everyone freeze, and Gwaine pulled his hand back in shock. "She…died."

"Yes." There was still a deadness in Merlin's eyes as he brought up his hand to furtively rub the bridge of his nose. "A few years ago."

The knights still in the trees looked dumbfounded at each other, and then at Arthur, the only one of them who would've known Merlin well enough back then. He looked as surprised as they did, and only managed a dazed shaking of the head. _I've no idea_, he mouthed at them.

"Was she very sick?" Gwaine asked quietly, trying to find a way not to blunder the conversation. "Did you meet her through Gaius?"

Merlin laughed to himself in his head. _Sort of, but it would be too hard to explain._ "She wasn't sick," he said honestly. Gwaine looked at him expectantly so he continued. "She was killed."

Gwaine's hand crept instinctively to the hilt of the sword at his waist. "Killed?" Merlin's eyes were squeezed shut and he nodded. Gwaine's eyes narrowed. "Who did it?" Gwaine growled.

It was proof of how much alcohol Merlin had drunk before running from the tavern that the answer slipped out without hesitation. "Arthur."

Gwaine's hand tightened around the sword handle. All three remaining knights spun around to stare at Arthur. Arthur's mouth had fallen open, and he stared dumbly ahead. Merlin's eyes opened at the sound of Gwaine's sword being slid from its scabbard and put out his hand to stop it, accidentally cutting his finger on the blade. He let out a gasp and immediately stuck the bleeding finger in his mouth. "Don't blame him, Gwaine," he replied, inspecting the finger for damage, "He didn't know."

Gwaine looked back, shooting daggers at his king, who continued to look shocked. "How could he not have known?"

Merlin sighed. "She was…cursed. Arthur did what he had to do, I guess." He let out a somewhat bitter laugh. "Doesn't make it any easier, though."

"Does he know now?"

Merlin let out another laugh, this one slightly less bitter. "That'd be a fine conversation, wouldn't it? 'Hey, Arthur. Remember that cursed girl you stabbed the other day? That was my girlfriend.'"

Realization finally dawned on Arthur's face.

"I buried her heare," Merlin said distractedly. "I've never loved another, and probably never shall." He rubbed his eyes furtively. "As pathetic as I guess that sounds."

All the wind was knocked out of Merlin as Gwaine crushed him into a hug. "You could never be pathetic. I'm sorry I was a prat."

"It's all right," Melrin smiled genuinely. Gwaine ruffled his hair and cuffed him on the unaffected shoulder.

Then the rest of the knights chose to rush in. "Ah, there you are, Merlin!" Leon exclaimed. "We were wondering where you'd run off to. Hello, Gwaine."

There was an impish glint in Merlin's eye that hinted he did not entirely buy Leon's act, but he said nothing about it. "Hello. I'm sorry about earlier."

"No harm done," Leon replied, "I'm sorry we upset you earlier. You know," he sat down beside Merlin, "you can talk to us. Whenever you want." He grabbed Merlin's shoulder and gripped it reassuringly.

"Thanks." Merlin smiled. "I know." He leaned forward and whispered. "And you can tell Arthur to come out. I saw him sneak behind a tree when you all walked out."

"You've been caught, sire!" Elyan laughed, and Arthur drew back slightly, still fully occupied in trying to get the _ireallykilledmybestfriend'sloveandyethehasn'ttriedtokillmeireallyamaprat_ look off of his face. He managed to subdue it into a look of guilt and surprise before stepping out into the clearing.

The king walked forward, and the knights parted slightly to let him through, although Gwaine kept his arm slung around Merlin's shoulders. Arthur looked down at his friend's flushed face and bloodshot eyes and swallowed hard, searching desperately for the right words.

"Merlin, I…" _I'm sorry to have done that to you? I wouldn't have done that if I'd known? If I could take it back…is this why you run around talking about love like a girl? How could you forgive me for what I've done?_

He sat down beside his friend and forced him to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry."

In the end, there was really nothing more to be said.

Merlin gave a slight nod and managed a small smile before looking back over the lake.

"What was her name?" Percival asked quietly.

Merlin gave a small puff of laughter, and turned to the others, who, despite their empathetic sorrow, felt joy rise up within them at the light reentering his eyes. His smile was more genuine, although sad, and there was a warm look in his eyes as he looked at them.

"Freya."

* * *

A/N: And there you are. I hope that you liked it!

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy, and I like to know what people think so far!


	4. Doubt and Faith

Greetings Readers! This oneshot just came to me the other day, and it was one of those things that would not let me go until I'd written it. So...hopefully it's good! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Spoilers for 4x12, conflicted Arthur, angst/hurt/comfort (I do like writing lighter stuff, I swear! It'll be coming eventually!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

_You knew. You knew that Agravaine was betraying me._

_I had no proof. But…I did have my suspicions._

_I feel such a fool._

_Arthur, can you please-_

_One more word and I swear to God I will send you into exile._

_For all your many faults…one day you will be the greatest king this land has ever known._

The twig in the dying embers of the fire snapped with an almost explosive pop, bringing the deposed king out of his troubled sleep. He stared around almost wildly for a moment, worried that enemies had discovered them at last, only for his heart to quiet and still as he realized he was literally jumping at the wind. He let his head fall into his hands. _I've been such a fool._

When his mind wandered over the past year with Agravaine as his advisor, there were so many little instances, so many odd reactions to things that Agravaine had shown, that in hindsight his treachery was astonishingly clear for the beginning. But he'd never seen it – never even had more than a lingering suspicion after the attack of the assassin and the brief disappearance of Merlin.

Merlin. Arthur groaned as he mentally whipped himself thinking about how many times Merlin had tried to make him see the light. How he had tried to steer Arthur away from the self-destructive path that Agravaine was so earnestly proposing. And all he had gotten for his pains was verbal abuse and threats of exile, all for nothing that was really fault. All for telling the truth and trying to get Arthur to _see_.

It wasn't until Merlin had been dangerously wounded and lost to the grips of the assassins that Arthur really understood how much he relied on Merlin. Not just on his support, but on his subtle counsel and advice. He supposed he could admit it now, the idiot was truly wise. What's more, he never pushed Arthur into a corner, even when he himself felt passionately about something – not like Agravaine. He could always trust Merlin, trust his manservant to _see_ past all the obfuscation to find the truth.

Agravaine hadn't been the first. As Arthur let his mind stay on its melancholy bent, he remembered how Merlin had never seemed to warm up to Morgana after her year-long disappearance. Not really, not the way that he had before she had gone. He'd even suspected the man of having affections for his half-sister; how could he not notice the sudden coolness towards her, a coolness that was distinctly uncharacteristic for the normally cheery manservant. He had to have known then, but he must have known that to say something would have meant dire consequences for himself. And who would have believed a peasant over the king's ward?

_I would have_, Arthur argued to himself, but even in his mind the thoughts fell flat. He hadn't believed Merlin this time around; why would he believed him when it was Morgana he was accusing and not Agravaine?

The thought process was really not improving Arthur's opinion of himself as a good king, no matter what Merlin had said earlier around the campfire. How could he be a good king if he was so blind – not only to what he himself saw but what others told him? His mind somehow switched back to Merlin, remembering how so many times the younger man had pointed out the truth that he had steadfastly refused to believe. Killing the unicorn brought on the famine and drought. The woman Uther married was really a troll. The druid camp was really cursed. Gaius was not a traitor. All these things and more Merlin had known and tried to tell him, but he was stubborn to listen. And the mark of a great king was to listen. Arthur laughed slightly to himself. That certainly wasn't one of the things Uther had taught him. He'd probably learned it inadvertently from Merlin himself.

He owed Merlin so much – for his loyalty, his faith, and also for sticking around when each of those had been put to the test over and over again. He could never fully repay his friend – he would admit it on occasion – for all that he had done. But he wondered how Merlin could stick around through all of this.

Peering through the rising smoke of the dying campfire, Arthur looked around and realized with a jolt that Merlin's bedroll was empty. By the time they had both finally given way to sleep, Merlin had edged a bit away from the flames to allow Tristan and Isolde more warmth, especially since Isolde was still in such a sensitive condition. Had Merlin finally had enough?

Arthur listened intently, but he could hear nothing that could be connected to his manservant. No gathering of sticks, no nonsensical tunes being hummed, no tentative snapping of twigs as stealthy feet crept around the campsite keeping watch. Maybe for all of Merlin's encouraging words, he had come to listen and accept what Arthur was professing as true. Maybe Arthur wasn't the king that deserved the throne of Camelot, and the smarter-than-given-credit-for manservant had finally had enough.

That hurt. It hurt, surprisingly, more than any betrayal he had experienced, and just as much as watching the love of his life kiss another man, although the pain was admittedly of a different sort. He had taken Merlin for granted, and maybe that would turn out to be his downfall.

_No man is worth your tears,_ he once said to Merlin, but he could not say that the salt tears tracking down his face were unfounded.

He was about to truly lose himself to the tears and give way to howls of grief when he heard a tell-tale snapping of twigs and a slight muttered curse as the sound grew closer and louder. His eyes narrowed in recognition as the voice became closer, and then he immediately flopped down into his bedroll, feigning sleep. Through his mostly closed eyelids, he saw his manservant make his way through the surrounding trees, sitting in front of the fire and warming his hands for a moment before tossing another stack of kindling on the fire. Merlin looked absolutely exhausted but there was a pleased expression in his tired eyes as he stretched his neck back and looked up into the sky. He yawned largely and then moved over to his bedroll. He lay down himself and then his eyes slid shut. Arthur almost missed the whisper over the crackling fire, but he strained to hear the words Merlin was saying.

"Don't worry, Arthur. We're going to get through this."

Arthur thought for a moment that Merlin had seen him awake, but as soon as his words faded into the night they were followed by a light snore that showed Merlin had immediately slipped into sleep. The king sat up and smiled to himself.

He still didn't believe fully that he was the right man for this job. But Merlin, through all that they had been through, seemed to believe so, and believed it whole-heartedly. So that would have to be enough for now.

Merlin, after all, was always right.

* * *

A/N: This is definitely my most Arthur-centric oneshot so far, and I hope you enjoyed it. Arthur seems to really have a crisis of faith in the last two episodes of season 4, and I absolutely love that Merlin knows how to bring him out of it. I also like the idea that Arthur is at least somewhat aware of how much Merlin does for him, because he doesn't acknowledge it too much. Ah well.

Thanks for reading and please review! I like to see what people think and reviews make me happy!

Thanks to all those who have reviewed. Will be responding soon!


	5. Support

Greetings Readers! Here is the next oneshot for this collection!

Again, it's a rather sad one. I seem to be getting a depressed muse for some reason recently; I promise happy things will be coming soon!

Warning: Little Merlin at the beginning (although not much of a warning – a young Merlin makes me want to squeal at his cuteness); Mood whiplash after flashback to angst/hurt/comfort. Spoilers for 4x09

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

Merlin giggled merrily, his legs swinging slightly through the air, as he watched the show before him.

Hearing the sound, Hunith came out of the front door of their home and looked down at her small son, who was perched on the thick tree stump just outside the door that mother and son called his 'thinking tree.' "What is it, Merlin?"

Merlin pointed forward, still giggling, at the two young men in the center of the square who were throwing strange insults and buckets of water at each other while a young woman around their age was trying desperately to intervene. Hunith put one hand on her hip and clucked her tongue disapprovingly at the scene. "No shame." She looked down at Merlin, who still looked incredibly amused, the smile nearly splitting his face. "Merlin, stop," she chastised gently, "It's not funny. Those three need to figure out their problems in private, not in the square." Her face softened. "They're just causing themselves more problems in the long run."

"What problems, Mother?" Merlin asked. "They look like they're having fun!"

Hunith shook her head. "No, Merlin. Both of these young men love that woman." She continued, muttering under her breath. "It's been a complete love triangle since her family moved here."

"But love's a good thing, isn't it, Mother?" Merlin piped up, "I love you, so it must be good!"

Hunith smiled down warmly at her innocent son. "Love can be very good," she agreed, "but it can bring great hurt as well." A poignant look that Merlin would come to associate with mentions of his father in years to come entered his mother's eyes as she turned to enter their home.

Kicking his legs enthusiastically, Merlin continued watching the spectacle in front of him and grinned. No matter what his mother said, love triangles were fun.

It would have been an understatement to say that Merlin would come to disagree with that thought in the future. Love triangles hurt – burned like fire, froze like ice, and seemed to leave a sort of empty hollowness that resounded throughout a person's being. And it didn't only affect those in the love triangle, but also those on the sidelines picking up the pieces. Although sometimes he didn't feel like he was on the sidelines but rather underneath the triangle, trying to support all three of his friends at once while attempting to keep everything from falling apart.

Sometimes he thought it might have been easier if he didn't care equally for all of them. Gwen was his first friend in Camelot. Lancelot was the first and only person besides Gaius who knew of his magic and still completely accepted him. And Arthur, despite his prattishness, was his best friend and the one he owed his loyalty to. He would've accepted the role of trying to keep them all whole without question, but he hadn't been given the chance. It had been taken away from him when he and Arthur had gone to save Gwen.

Arthur had cracked and told him he was in love with Gwen (and delivering a threat at the same time. Honestly, did he think Merlin had some fervent desire to get Gwen banished? Did he really need to threaten him?). He'd seen Lancelot's feelings for Gwen and also Lancelot's reaction when he saw his prince had the same feelings. He'd had to lose Lancelot to his nobility, although he couldn't keep from being a little upset that Lancelot wouldn't tell Gwen himself. Merlin had had to give the news to Gwen, see her eyes well with confusion and tears, and not be able to say anything but what Lancelot had said. He'd had to walk alongside both of his friends' horses, endure the grief and longing on both of their faces as they came back to Camelot, wanting to say something to break the tension but not knowing the words.

With time and Merlin's prodding, Arthur seemed to get over his own fears of what courtship to Gwen would mean, and romantic feelings between Arthur and Gwen continued to grow. Even with all the obstacles in their way, involving an aged Merlin saving Gwen from the execution pyre, the love of legend continued to grow and strengthen.

And then Lancelot came back.

In a way, nothing and everything had changed. Lancelot still loved Gwen but wouldn't act on his feelings, Arthur both valued and was wary of Lancelot, and Gwen loved them both, although now in vastly different ways. And Merlin was still there – coaxing admissions out of Lancelot, listening sympathetically as Gwen confessed her guilt for causing both men pain, and reassuring Arthur that Gwen did love him. He bore the weight willingly, because he was their friend.

Lancelot's death made the weight even heavier. Arthur felt the guilt of another man dying in his place and the dismayed relief that Gwen valued his own safety above everything. Gwen felt relief that her love had returned and sorrow that a man had died to fulfill to her request. Merlin bore these, as both confided in him, as well as the frustration that he hadn't been able to save Lancelot from sacrificing himself in his place and the certain knowledge of Lancelot's unrequited love that he would take to his grave. It was not unlike the weight of his own lost love that had settled around him when Freya had died, but felt strange, foreign, and assumed, and so all the more heavy to bear.

But, Merlin thought to himself, as he pushed the flower-laden boat out into the middle of the lake, he would have willingly carried that weight for the rest of his life if it would have prevented this from happening. If only he had seen from the beginning that this shadow of Lancelot was just that – only a shade of his good friend. If only he had acted sooner. But he never would have expected this.

There was nothing he could have done – and that somehow was more painful than anything else. Gaius was right – as much as Arthur had wanted to kill Lancelot when he'd seen the two kissing, his real grievance was with Gwen and her betrayal. And while Merlin was suspicious of how quickly Gwen's desires were swayed, he had nothing to explain that change – not like the proof he had of the shade-Lancelot. So he could do nothing but watch.

He had tried to help Gwen pack, although he would infinitely have preferred locking her and her belongings firmly into the house to give him time to talk to Arthur. But she had made him leave, as though him standing near her just exposed him to some sort of infectious disease, a disease of ignominy and shame. Merlin had tried to protest, but then she turned to him head on, her voice pleading and her now dry eyes containing a sorrow far too poignant for any tears. He could not deny her. However, she could not make him leave entirely, and so he sat patiently and sadly outside of her home, waiting for her to appear. When she did, she looked in his direction for a moment and almost smiled but then quickly turned away as though she didn't deserve the comfort of his compassionate face after what she'd done. Gwen never allowed herself to look back as she laboriously pulled her cart through town, but Merlin stood resolutely watching her. He stayed in that same spot, watching her until she was so far away that he couldn't see her any longer and hoping that she would be safe. He also hoped that she would find the package he'd left her sooner rather than later.

Before Gwen had made him leave, he'd managed to tie one of his cleaner neckerchiefs to the handle of her sewing bag. The neckerchief had only contained a small slip of paper with a message for her.

_Don't lose heart, and remember Ealdor._

Merlin hoped that she would take the hint and take refuge in Ealdor, where he knew she would be safe and his mother would look after her. But he doubted she would got there at first, suspecting she'd force a sort of exile on herself beyond Arthur's decree – an exile from any friendly face or kind word – because she was far from forgetting herself for what had happened.

It had been with a heavy heart, and her fear and shame slung onto his shoulders, that Merlin had finally turned and walked back up to the castle, resolutely ignoring the curious onlookers poking out of their homes as they watched him go by. He had to talk to Arthur.

It was just as painful as seeing Gwen closing off – seeing Arthur with his walls rising up around him, walls that had taken years of Merlin's friendship and teasing and Gwen's love to finally dismantle. Merlin's heart ached to see the pain Arthur was going through, but also ached at watching all the three had been through together fall into ignominy and nothingness. All the same, he couldn't give up on them – he would have to keep trying.

"See to it that he receives a proper burial."

As he watched the tiny boat bob closer to the center of the lake, Merlin thought bitterly that a proper burial was not something he could give – a burial, yes, a burial full of respect and a sincerely grieving mourner he could provide, but it wasn't the same as a proper burial. Not for Lancelot, not for the man who had given so much for the kingdom and those he cared about, the man who was denied peace even in the supposed sanctity of death. It was a small source of comfort that Merlin was able to remove Morgana's hold on Lancelot before he set the boat off into the lake. However, in a way it was almost worse – Lancelot had been aware of what was happening but couldn't do anything to stop it. Merlin could not deny that seeing Lancelot's grateful, free face brought a soothing balm to his aching soul, and he felt that, perhaps, that was the closest thing to a proper send-off his friend could receive. Freedom.

It wasn't fair. Merlin almost petulantly flopped onto the shore beside Lake of Avalon and watched as the flames licked over the sides of the boat. It wasn't fair on any of them.

Arthur and Gwen loved each other – still loved each other – and would have been happy together. Lancelot had already had to die once, but at least he had died as a knight, straight-backed, proud, and with honor. Who would remember his goodness, his greatness, now that his story would be tainted with an adultery and a shame that were not truly his?

"I will." Merlin promised himself and the spirit of the man who was finally free, his words quiet and barely heard over the gentle crackle of flames.

But he deserved more than that, much more. So did the other sides of the triangle, but it seemed to be late. Merlin picked up a stone and stared at it pensively for a few moments before finally releasing his own frustration by throwing it across the lake with a scream of anger.

The force of his arm combined with an unintentional spurt of magic made the stone fly across the lake striking a tree with such force it came out the other side, leaving a smoking hole in its wake. Merlin fell on his back, breathing heavily, getting his emotions under control. After enough minutes had passed to sufficiently calm him, he sat up and tried to think out what to do next.

It was unfair, it was cruel, there was nothing he could do to change that. But to simply give into his anger, or to do nothing but let the whole thing continue to fall apart, was something he could not do, would not allow himself to do. It would only disgrace his friend's memory and abandon his friends' dreams.

With a near-silent goodbye to his lost love, the young man stood, his posture straight-backed although he seemed to bear an enormous weight on his shoulders. He gave a respectful nod to the embers of his friend, which were seeping into the lake and then turned to go.

It was a heavy weight to bear, but he chose it willingly. He was going to make everything all right.

He had to.

* * *

A/N: I hope Merlin didn't seem out of character at the end by yelling. I personally believe he deserves to have a good jolt of anger every now and again. He has to deal with a lot of stuff!

Thanks for reading and please review! I like hearing what you think! It makes me happy!


	6. Always Right

Greetings Readers! Here's another oneshot for your reading enjoyment (I hope!).

Warning: This is actually a humor oneshot, believe it or not. I actually have a few other oneshots that are more somber or just sad bouncing around in my depressed muse's repertoire, but this one came to me and I had to write it down.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters. Sigh

* * *

"Everything's going to be all right," Merlin promised, the brightness of his smile still somehow encouraging in the darkness of the dungeon cells, "I promise. You will get out of here."

The manservant then clasped the man's arm from between the prison bars before sprinting up the stairs in search of the king. Gestal, who stood in the dungeon cell after being unjustly accused of sorcery, let himself sink into a sitting position on the hay and looked gloomily out into the darkness.

It had been a whirlwind few days since he'd ventured into Camelot. He'd simply come into the kingdom walls to try selling the wares he made on his farm out in the forests, and to see the majestic castle and fantastic activity of the square that he'd been told about since he was a boy. He had not expected to run into the black-haired young man who showed him around the city and introduced him to people who could give him fairly priced lodgings. He had not expected to be shown around the palace itself by the young man, who turned out to be the king's manservant, after confessing in an embarrassed moment of weakness that he'd always dreamed of seeing the castle.

He certainly hadn't expected to be accused of making the king's betrothed desperately ill and near the brink of death with sorcery.

He had been waiting for Merlin to come back from the kitchens with some lunch (lunch fit for a king, Merlin had promised with a sly wink) when the king's uncle and several guards rushed into the physician's chambers. Gestal had been arrested with barely any explanation, the silence broken by a gasp of shock and a clatter of plates as Merlin dropped the lunch he was delivering.

He didn't know Merlin, but somehow he trusted the man completely. However, that didn't keep him from trembling violently at the thought of what the accusation of magic – magic – would do to him. He would be lucky to survive this with his head.

Gestal hid his face in his hands and let out a groan of fear and trepidation. One of the guards looked through the bars. "All right in there?"

"What do you think?" If he hadn't been so scared, the man might have rethought barking his answer at the man who, admittedly, held his present fate in his hands. But he was scared. "I'm accused of sorcery but I'm innocent!"

The other guard nodded sagely. "Of course you are."

The imprisoned man's eyes narrowed. The first guard read his glare accurately and replied. "Calm yourself – he's being serious. We know you're innocent." He snorted. "Even if the king don't yet."

"But," Gestal's mouth fell open. "How?"

The second guard shrugged. "Cause Merlin believes you, dun he? And he's always right."

The guards all burst out into appreciative laughter. "Don't know why the king doesn't just give up and accept it," the first guard choked out through his laughter, "Every single time Merlin says something's not right or that someone's been accused for something they didn't do it, he turns out to be right."

"Gaius – the first time AND the second time." One guard replied, ticking off two fingers.

"The lady Gwen – the first and second time."

"The queen turned out to be a troll and was enchanting the king's father."

"Sir Gwaine when he attacked the thugs trying to kill the king…"

Gestal's face grew increasingly astonished as the guards continued to nonchalantly recount all the times Merlin had been proven right despite all the upper people claiming he was wrong. Eventually, he stopped responding and the guards noticed.

"Eh, looks like he needs something stiff." The first guard said calmly and begin fishing around in his tunic for a flask. He uncorked the flask and held it under the man's nose. "Fancy a pint?"

···

Several hours later, by the time that the falsely imprisoned man had relaxed enough under the influence of the guard's encouragement and alcohol, Merlin could be heard tripping down the stairs, cheekily admonishing someone for being a stubborn prat. The guards all stood at attention as the king, with his manservant following closely behind, walked in front of the occupied cell.

Apparently, Merlin had discovered that it was Morgana – the king's estranged sister – who had grievously poisoned the king's beloved by somehow sneaking an enchanted poppet underneath the girl's bed. He had removed the poppet and shown it to the king, and both had recognized Morgana's handiwork. That and the fact that she'd left a piece of familiar hair behind in her haste.

To his credit, the golden-haired king looked incredibly apologetic while still looking regal as he told the man he was free to go. He even, with a less than subtle suggestion from his manservant that was made more potent with the mention of how his beloved wanted to make amends as well, invited the man to a private dinner with just him, Gwen, and Merlin.

Gestal found himself agreeing because it was always a good idea to go along with the king, and also because the young man looked considerably nicer when he wasn't accusing you of sorcery against his beloved. Merlin's reassuring nod behind the king's back didn't hurt either.

Arthur clasped Gestal's arm after he was released and began steering him towards the stairs, chatting with him to put the man at ease. Merlin nodded with satisfaction before following behind.

"Merlin?"

Merlin turned around and looked at the first guard. "Yeah, Ferhweard?"

"Losing a bit of yer touch, aren't ya?" The guard laughed. "Took you how long to get him out this time?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You try talking sense into the prat! It's not as easy as it looks." And then with a grin he said his goodbyes and sprinted up the stairs after Arthur and Gestal.

"Like clockwork, that is." The second guard grinned. "Don't know why it takes that long for the king to get it. The lad always turns out to be right."

"Even when he's said he has magic?" One of the newer guards asked curiously.

All the guards looked at each other and then burst out into raucous laughter, shaking their heads.

Because that idea was just ridiculous.

* * *

A/N: The guards at Camelot get a lot of grief - and probably rightfully so, since their track record with prisoners doesn't appear to be at its best. I like the idea that they can see what Arthur can't – that Merlin is ALWAYS right when it comes to his accusations and defenses. Always. Of course, I can't have them be perfect, hence why they're still oblivious to the big truth. Bwahahaha!

I hope you liked it!

Thanks for reading and please review! I like to know what people think so far, and they make me happy!


	7. Not Just a Servant

Greetings Readers! Here is a new oneshot. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: Spoilers for "Lamia," hurt/comfort, guilty knights, sad Merlin

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

Everything had been a blur for the past few days, and when the knights finally came to consciousness and awareness in the village, they had no memories of what had happened, only various aches and pains and Gaius telling them that they'd been enchanted. He hadn't been much more clear on what had happened, only that it had been brought on by the young girl they'd found in the forest and that only Gwen and Merlin were totally aware of what had happened.

"If you want to know," the physician continued, "you'll have to ask them."

And that was when they realized something really bad had happened.

Gwen had been, under Arthur's strict orders, been given time alone to rest and recover from what had happened. The only one who might have been able to make it past that edict was Elyan, and he was still too exhausted to even rise from his bed to ask her. As for Merlin, he had been too busy assisting Gaius with the sick men at the village to spend much spare time chatting. So far, he'd only spoken to Arthur, Gwen, and Gaius, and had only perfunctory comments and questions for the knights. That was what was wrong.

Merlin always had a kind word and a ready smile for anyone. His humor could light up moments when things looked most bleak and difficult. It was strange that he'd so far withheld himself from talking with the knights. It almost felt like he was…avoiding them.

Percival, ironically, was the first to take a crack at trying to talk with Merlin. He'd been lying half awake on the bed while Merlin was alternating between stirring some of Gaius' medicine and tending to a patient, adjusting the man's cold compress and making sure he was comfortable. "Merlin?" He whispered.

If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that Merlin had stiffened slightly with some emotion before turning to face him. "Yes?"

"Is everyone…going to be okay?"

Merlin nodded solemnly. "They will, yourself included. But you need rest."

Percival forced himself into a sitting position, to better see Merlin's face in the flickering candlelight. "Merlin…what happened exactly? What happened when we were enchanted?"

"Oh, you know, nothing big." Merlin shrugged, grinning although the expression seemed forced. "You and the other knights just got a big hit of some enchantment. But you're all better now." He stood up, and turned towards the door of the hut. "But you won't be for long if you don't get some rest. I need to go see Gaius."

"Merlin?"

Merlin nodded at him formally. "Sir Percival." And then he left.

Percival blinked confusedly at the door swinging back and forth behind Merlin. His friend had never been so formal with him – and he'd never addressed him by his title like he was inferior.

"Percival?" A tired but equally concerned voice asked from behind him, and Percival shifted around to see Elyan struggling to sit up, staring with confusion after the swinging door. "Did I miss something? Is something wrong with Merlin?"

The knight looked out through the window to see Merlin's silhouette move throughout the village streets towards the lit house where they knew Gaius was staying. The posture seemed overly erect, like he was forcing himself to remain upright and straight-backed. "I don't know."

After Percival's question, none of the knights had seen Merlin in the hut where they were healing, mostly due to Merlin now having to run after Arthur while helping Gaius with the villagers' treatment. But even when Arthur came in to check on them, Merlin wasn't tagging along. He was either helping Gaius or with Gwen, either teasing her about how much Arthur was _impressed_ by her fighting skills or helping her to overcome her own nightmares about the experience. When they asked, Arthur didn't have a particularly good explanation himself.

"He's been a bit subdued, Merlin," Arthur said when Elyan had managed to sit up and asked him where their friend was, "blathers less and thinks more. He can be a nuisance with all that chatter, but it's almost more annoying when he's quiet. Ah well," he shrugged, "he could have been affected by the enchantment too, I suppose. Just less than what you experienced." His tone was as it usually was with Merlin, teasing and dismissive, but the look in his eyes concerned all the knights who sat up. Arthur was worried about Merlin too.

Leon was the next to notice that something was wrong. Once all the knights had been able to stand and walk about without a great deal of pain, Arthur announced that they were returning to Camelot. The villagers had been cured, the knights were back to themselves, and there was nothing more to be done there. Merlin was there before the knights arrived, tacking up their horses after tending to Arthur's, and was giving Leon's horse a drink of water when the knight walked up.

"Hello, Merlin," the knight grinned and greeted the younger man congenially.

"Good morning," Merlin responded as he put down the water bucket he'd been using and turned to face Leon. "Slept well?"

"Never better," Leon said, stretching slightly, "I'm just ready to go back to Camelot."

Merlin smiled, "I can understand that."

Leon reached out a hand to stroke his horse's mane, and noticed that one of the horse's buckles had not been fastened completely. He clicked his tongue reprovingly but in a friendly manner and reached up to buckle it. "You've got to watch this, Merlin. What if that were Arthur's –"

In a flash, Merlin had reached up to the buckle himself and fastened it. "I'm sorry, Sir Leon. I'll do better next time."

Leon stared at him. "No harm done, Merlin. I just wanted to give you a heads-up."

"Sorry," Merlin returned to his not-a-smile, "I guess I'm not much of a horseman. I'm just a servant, don't spend enough time with horses."

Leon was taken aback. _Just a servant?_ "Merlin, it was just a simple mistake."

"And one I'll try not to make again," Merlin nodded. "You'd best get ready, I think we'll be leaving soon." He began walking towards Arthur's horse to check the saddle and straps, but Leon's call made him stop in his tracks.

"Merlin!" The younger man turned around. "Is anything wrong?"

Merlin flashed him a bright smile, but that only served to show how dim his eyes were in comparison. "Course not."

"Merlin…"

"We'd best be off," Merlin said distractedly as he walked forward to meet Arthur, who was escorting Gwen with great care to her horse. Leon stared after him.

Gwaine had sensed something off in Merlin from the moment he'd regained awareness, but hadn't been able to do much about it. Once they were back in Camelot, he was finally able to try and pull Merlin aside for a night of drinking, hopefully to find out what was wrong and snap Merlin out of it.

It wasn't working.

"Come on, mate," Gwaine bellowed, slapping Merlin heartily on the back, "I hear the Hog's Head has some specially good offerings tonight." He leaned forward to waggle his eyebrows. "And I'm not just talking about the mead."

He'd expected Merlin to roll his eyes and laugh good-naturedly at his lecherous behavior that spoke a lot but never seemed to yield as many results as he thought he would. He did not expect Merlin to look up from his sweeping of Gaius' chambers and shake his head. "Sorry, I can't go tonight. I've got to clean out the leech tank after this, and that's not even counting what Arthur's going to want me to do anyway. Besides," he bent his head downward and continued sweeping. "You know me. I get drunk off the smell of a barmaid's apron."

Gwaine's eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at his friend, trying to get him to look him in the eye. "That never stopped you before." He barked out a laugh. "'Sides, the princess seems to think that you live in the tavern from what I've heard him say." He grinned. "Haven't been holding out on me, have you, friend?"

Merlin seemingly chose to ignore the question. "All the more reason for me _not_ to leave, Gwaine. Last thing I need is for the king to fire me for spending too much time there."

And Gwaine's suspicions of something being wrong were proved completely right in his head. He knew just as well as anyone in the castle, or Camelot for that matter, that Arthur would never fire Merlin. For all his complaining and ordering about, they knew that he trusted Merlin and his opinions more than anyone else's. "Is everything all right, Merlin?"

Merlin grinned. "Yeah. You go on ahead," he gestured towards the door, "go get some of the other knights and have fun. No need to have me drag you all down." The tone was joking, but there was something about it that seemed off.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Go on, I'll see you later."

Gwaine did only part of what Merlin had suggested. He managed to snag all of the other knights, but instead of going to the tavern, they retreated to the armory and talked.

"Something's wrong with Merlin," Gwaine stated. "But I don't know what."

"Neither do I," Elyan answered, "Do you think what the villager said to him upset him at all?"

Leon shook his head. "No, I don't think so. He seemed okay, knew the man was just scared. He didn't even seem that upset when we had to go get Gaius, concerned but not upset."

Percival rested his chin on both of his hands. "So if he wasn't upset then…what happened?"

"Got it," Gwaine said, and the others turned to look at him, "Must have been something that happened when we were all enchanted. He was fine last I can remember before that." He looked at the others. "Any of you lot remember what happened? It's all still a blur for me."

"No," Leon answered as the others shook their heads. "I can't remember. I think only Gwen and Merlin know what fully happened." He looked at Elyan. "Has she said anything?"

Elyan shook his head. "Just that I was sick for most of the time. Nothing more." He frowned. "But it felt like she wasn't telling me everything."

"Let's go talk with her."

They found Gwen standing in an alcove near the king's chambers, talking with Arthur. Most of the time, her brother would have taken a few moments to tease her about the pleased blush that spread across her nose and cheeks, but the situation was too serious for that.

Arthur turned to look at them, his more affectionate expression fading into a mix of irritation at being interrupted and concern about any potential threats they could coming to report to him. "What is it? Is everything all right?"

"Not exactly, sire," Leon answered as Elyan drew closer to his sister.

"Gwen, what happened?"

She looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"What happened when we were enchanted?"

Gwen's eyes swept to the floor. "You just…weren't yourselves for a bit. That's all." She regained her composure and looked up at them. "Why don't you ask Merlin?"

"He just says that we were enchanted. We haven't been able to ask him more than that. It's like he's been avoiding us." Gwen's gasp of surprised pain was missed by none of them. Elyan reached out and grabbed her arm imploringly, "Please, Gwen-"

Gwen gave a more pained gasp, and reached for the spot on her arm that her brother had touched. Arthur's eyes flashed with anger at the pain as Elyan took an involuntary step backward. Elyan took her arm again, more gently this time. "Gwen, are you hurt?"

Her nonresponse was answer enough. Together, both Arthur and Elyan rolled up her sleeve to see the bruise she'd gotten when she'd fallen in the fight with the Lamia. Elyan's eyes widened as Gwen's dropped once more to the floor. "Gwen, please." He implored, but she continued to stare at the floor. "Please," he continued, "tell me that we didn't do that. Did we hurt you?"

She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. "Not me."

~.~

Merlin was sitting up on one of the top turrets of the castle looking out into the lands surrounding Camelot. Gaius had forbidden him from doing any chores that evening after dinner, after seeing Merlin push his food around the plate for the third night in a row. He'd gone to pull back the bedclothes and prepare whatever else was needed for Arthur to go to bed whenever he returned, and then had found himself not knowing what to do. He was too tired to ride out into the forest or to visit the Lake of Avalon. He didn't particularly want to return to his bedroom, where Gaius would be sure to try and continue to find out what was troubling him. He was having a hard enough time trying to hide it from the knights, Arthur, and Gwen – Gaius would be nearly impossible to keep from telling him everything.

Looking out at Camelot often made him feel better – reminded him of the great destiny he was helping Arthur to achieve, of bringing the greatest kingdom the world would ever know to light. But tonight, it did nothing. It just made him doubt his ability to do so. _What's destiny thinking, anyway? How'm I supposed to help Arthur accomplish all that? I'm just a servant._

That's why Merlin couldn't be around the knights anymore. It wasn't their fault that they'd been enchanted, but their words and actions stung more than he'd thought possible. Despite all the great things Gaius and Kilgarrah said about what he was destined to do, sometimes he'd felt like they'd picked the wrong man. He had been a criminal since the moment he'd stepped into Camelot, the magic in his veins condemning him before he'd even taken his first breath. People still thought he was clumsy, he kept making stupid mistakes, and he always had the overwhelming threat of what would happen if someone discovered he had magic, if Arthur discovered he was magic. _I am just a servant,_ he bitterly reminded himself, _what do I deserve with such a destiny?_

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't sense the four approaching him from behind.

~.~

If the knights hadn't been fully occupied in being eaten alive with guilt, they might have found Arthur's expressions over the duration of Gwen's story amusing. He displayed a dull look of shock at the beginning of the story, a burning anger when he discovered what they'd been doing to Gwen and Merlin, a different brewing scowl when he heard what they'd done only to Merlin, a look of almost lovesick sympathy for his crying beloved, and then a look of pride when he'd heard what Gwen had been able to do. After having shown these emotions once, he continued switching between them for the duration of the story. Gwaine certainly would have had some fun with his liege's expression in future ale-fueled taunts, if he hadn't himself been alternating between staring in shock at Gwen and staring desolately at his shoes.

By the time Gwen had reached the end of her story, she was in tears and there was a suspicious wetness in the knights' eyes. Arthur tightened the arm that he had placed around Gwen's shoulders around the time she was recounting the first confrontation after they found Lamia, and also tightened his grip on his sword that was hanging in its scabbard by his side. No one could be sure whether he planned on using it or not.

"Why…" Gwaine started, and then swallowed at the dryness of his throat. "Why didn't he tell us that?"

"Surely he knows that we didn't mean any of those things we said or did." Leon said, troubled. "We would never…not in our right minds."

Elyan spoke up. "We weren't in our right minds! We were enchanted – does Merlin not know that?"

"He should," Percival said perplexedly, "He always knows when something magical or strange is happening, even when no one else does."

Gwen squeezed the hand on her shoulder appreciatively and then removed it so she could move closer to the knights. "He knows. He knew. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't think you were right."

The knights had already been looking around, as though Merlin would be in his customary place behind Arthur, but that made them even more anxious. "Where is he?" Gwaine asked.

Gwen sighed. "I don't know. He'd usually be helping Gaius or with Arthur right now – but the way he's been recently, Gaius has been trying to get him to rest and I don't think Merlin's up to that right now." Her eyes began tearing up. "I wish I knew."

Arthur, opting to release the sword in favor of using both arms to comfort Gwen, turned her gently around in order to escort her someplace quiet so she could recover from telling the emotionally trying tale. Just as he gently pushed into the hallway, he turned back to deliver some parting words to his hand-picked knights. "Try the east turret." He said plainly, and then his eyes narrowed in a mix of determination, brotherly concern, and anger. "Fix this."

And then he was gone.

~.~

Gwaine put his hand on Merlin's shoulder when the young man showed no sign of realizing the knights were behind him. "Merlin-"

Merlin just kept himself from bolting upwards in fear, having been conditioned over the trip with Lamia to expect that from touch, but he could not keep the hiss of pain from leaving his mouth.

Gwaine pulled back his hand as though it had been burned, and as Merlin turned around on his perch to face the knights, they saw a large bruise peeking out from underneath his collar and inwardly grimaced.

Merlin's eyes widened and he got up off his perch. "My lords," he said, nodding his head respectfully and keeping his gaze downward.

Those words coming from Merlin hurt. The way that he kept his eyes downcast and wasn't looking at them stung. But the fact that his voice was so meek and dead, and he was slowing inching backward killed them.

"Merlin…" Gwaine's voice was pleading now, "Stop it."

"What?" Merlin said, no trace of teasing or sarcasm in his voice. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," Leon answered for Gwaine who was suddenly silent. "It's us that have done something wrong."

Merlin backed away a bit more quickly. "I don't know what you mean."

Elyan decided to take a different tack. "How did you get that bruise, Merlin?"

Merlin shifted the material of his shirt over the mark and looked to the side. "Ah, I fell off of my horse," he said in a near-perfect imitation of his usual joking tone. "I was just being a clumsy idiot, as usual."

"Has Gaius seen to it?"

Merlin shrugged, almost hiding the wince that accompanied the movement. "No need for him to waste the time. I'm no physician, but I can treat a bruise."

Leon felt a bitter taste in his mouth at those words, but he had no idea why.

"Actually," Merlin said, beginning to edge his way around the knights. "speaking of Gaius, I should probably get back to his chambers. He probably needs me to run –"

"Merlin," Leon said, "Gwen told us that Gaius hasn't been using you for errands for the past few days."

"Ah." Merlin stopped for a moment.

"Gwen told us _everything, _Merlin." Leon continued and Merlin became more still.

"I see." Merlin nodded. "That's good, I guess. But it really wasn't your fault, you know that. Don't you?"

That was typical Merlin, making sure that others were all right before himself. However, it was also somewhat frustrating, as they were trying to make sure he was okay. This time at least, it shouldn't be the other way around.

"That doesn't change the fact that we hurt you, Merlin," Elyan said, stepping closer. "And that we want to do anything we can to make it right."

"If there is anything we can do," Percival continued. "We don't deserve your forgiveness, but we would like to try anyway."

Merlin shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive."

Gwaine burst out at that. "Of course there is – we bullied and hurt you, Merlin! We injured you – don't tell me that bruise was from falling off a horse!"

"Would it be better if I said it was from falling away from a Lamia?" Merlin said sheepishly, reaching up to scratch his head.

"Not really."

"Seriously, though, I'm fine." Merlin replied.

"Then why," Gwaine walked over and flopped an arm around Merlin's shoulder, being careful to avoid the bruise, "have you been avoiding us, mate?"

Merlin tried to ignore how good it felt to have the familiar, comforting arm around his shoulder, even as he had to struggle internally to not push the arm off. He knew that it wasn't their fault, what they had done to him, but it was hard to forget the hate in their eyes and the disdain in their actions. It had been hard to discard the hurtful things they had said because, even though he had heard them on occasion from nobles before, coming from his friends they had _hurt._

And as cowardly as avoiding them was, it still felt better than facing them and fearing that that hurt would come again.

"Just been keeping busy," Merlin said with levity, although none of his friends bought it.

Gwaine steered him back to where he had been sitting and made him sit back down, the other knights following him closely. "Been busy hanging around up here? Busy not eating? Busy abandoning to a night of alcohol alone?" Gwaine sniffed dramatically, resulting in a small but genuine smile from Merlin.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Gwaine became a touch more serious. "We're the ones who are sorry." The others came forward, murmuring in agreement. "You know we'd kill anyone who treated you like that."

That elicited a reproving grunt from Leon, and Gwaine and Merlin looked back at him. "Fine," Gwaine amended, grinning, "I'd kill them and the others here would just maim them. Still not going to stand for that sort of talk against you, mate."

Merlin shrugged. "Why? I'm just a servant."

The knights stared at him a moment before bursting out into laughter. They all came closer and helped the younger man stand up. "Ah, Merlin," Gwaine boomed, yanking his friend into a hug, which Merlin was too happy to wince at, "you're wrong." The other knights all came forward then, nodding and placing their hands on their friend's shoulders. Gwaine grinned in approval as Merlin's face began to finally relax as he laughed along with them.

"You're much more than that."

* * *

A/N: And done. Phew, that was a long one. This was actually one of the first Merlin stories I ever started, but it got put on the back burner for a while. This episode was one of the hardest ones to watch - I hate them being mean to Merlin! - and then they don't even show an apology or anything! I know the knights were enchanted and couldn't help it, but still!

Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! I like knowing what you all think, and they make me happy!


	8. Allegiance

Greetings Readers! This oneshot is following really close to the other...I hope that's a good thing. They might be on hold for a little bit after this due to testing woes, but I'll try not to get delayed too long.

Warning: 3x13 spoilers; Friendship, Me attempting to get into characters' heads to make them realize just how awesome Merlin is (does that need a warning?)

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

"Are there any around this table that would join me?"

They had snuck into the abandoned castle knowing that their chances for success were less than slim, and that they were far outnumbered, but they would go down fighting. It was still clear that this was the truth as they sat down around the round table, but somehow the fact became less important. The fear, the doubt became nothing compared to the promise of what they could accomplish. Together.

But still, it would take a brave man to rise first and swear fealty to a plan that all sane men would see as hopeless and doomed to failure. So it was fitting that the truest knight Camelot would ever know was the first to stand and speak.

He turned to face his future king, after sparing a glance at the woman he loved but would let go and at the young man who, aptly enough, was sitting at the prince's right hand.

"I believe in the world that you will build." He looked Arthur straight in the eye, but even as Arthur nodded with acknowledgement and gratitude, Lancelot turned to look at Merlin and make a silent promise to him as well. _I believe in the world that you will both build, Merlin._

Lancelot tried always to be a man of honor – it was the code that he cherished and aspired to live to at all times. When Merlin had repaid him for saving his life by helping him to achieve his dream of becoming a knight, he had understood it as an act of honor. He quickly learned that it was not merely an act of honor for Merlin, but an act of friendship. It was a friendship Lancelot had never experienced before, in all its selflessness and sacrifice, and one that he was only too eager to reciprocate.

He would follow his friend Merlin wherever the other man needed him to be. He swore his utmost allegiance to his future king, but also promised that same allegiance to the humble man beside him.

Elyan stood. "You were willing to lay down your life for me, Arthur. It is now my turn to repay you." He glanced at Merlin who was smiling at him. _To repay both of you._

From his sister, Elyan had heard all about the man she loved and the man who was her best friend. He could never thank either of them enough for risking their lives to rescue him. It was brave for Arthur to venture out practically unaided without the blessing of his father, and he had nothing but respect for him. It was also brave of Merlin to come along, to allow himself to be dragged into a dangerous situation that he must have been fully aware would be dangerous. But he came anyway, and he was not fueled by love for Gwen but instead of loyalty to his friends – Gwen and Arthur.

There was more to Merlin than anyone openly gave him credit for, although Elyan suspected that others must also have noticed. He had this ability to see through the subterfuge of others – he had been the first to recognize Elyan in the gloom of his hut when he attacked Arthur, even when both Elyan and Arthur were too confused to recognize each other. He was intelligent and could think clearly on his feet, so clearly in fact that Elyan and Gwaine had not even hesitated to follow his instructions back in the castle. Like Arthur, he was a good man.

He swore his allegiance to Arthur, but he also made the same promise to Merlin – to defend Arthur as Merlin had defended him.

Leon stood. "There is no one that I would rather die for." _And I am grateful to you, Merlin, for helping make him the man I would willingly die for._

Leon would always remain true to his king, but he would be lying if he said he had not been worried about what kind of king Arthur would be when the boy was younger. Although his heart and love for his people was always genuine, he had let years of courtly living cover those virtues with arrogance.

Leon had watched in concern as Arthur had been using his previous manservant for target practice all those years ago, only to marvel in amazement at seeing a young man around Arthur's age step out to stop it. The boy had clearly not known Arthur was royalty, but even that knowledge was not enough to stop him giving the prince a tongue-lashing he undoubtedly deserved.

Merlin had succeeded, with all his backtalk, irreverence, and constant, steadfast support, in slowly removing the prince's shell to reveal the true king he was destined to be. Leon would willingly die for Arthur now, not merely out of duty but out of genuine respect for the young future king. And he knew that Merlin, clumsy, ever-present, ever-faithful Merlin would do the same.

His complete allegiance was for the prince, but he was also making the promise to Merlin.

"I think we've no chance," Gwaine drawled out from his chair, trying to keep from smirking as all eyes swiveled onto him. But then he stood up, and his face was all seriousness. "But I wouldn't miss it for the world." _I'm here to help a friend,_ he thought silently as he looked at the prince, and then at his first true friend, _both of you. You'd be lost without me!_

Merlin was unlike any person Gwaine had met before. He was the first person Gwaine truly trusted as a friend, and the first person to give that same trust to him. Merlin was completely insane – putting himself in danger time and time again to protect those he cared about with no thought of reward for himself. But sane people were boring.

Who else would have bailed him out of a hard spot in a tavern? Or who would run with him after a hard spot in _another _tavern? Who would have repeatedly put his neck on the line fighting for Gwaine's cause? Certainly not a sane person. Thank God Merlin wasn't sane.

In time, Gwaine had started to like the princess – guy had a way of growing on you. But he trusted Merlin before he trusted Arthur, and if Merlin was willing to support the prince, Gwaine had no choice but to back him up. That's what friends were for, after all.

He would swear allegiance to Arthur, but his greatest allegiance would always be to Merlin.

Percival was the next to stand. He was a man of few words, but he knew how to make them count. "Your enemies are my enemies." _And your friends are my friends._

Percival had been only too eager to help Lancelot when the other man had said that he was going to help the prince of Camelot defeat Cenred's army, the army that had seen to the deaths of all his living family. On their way to help, he heard a bit about Prince Arthur, but a great deal more about Merlin. Merlin was the manservant to the prince, but moreover he was Lancelot's friend and the one who had sent the letter asking for help. "One of the greatest men I've ever met," Lancelot said when he was asked to describe Merlin. It was an interesting description, especially since Percival had been expecting some sort of physical description, but one that Percival did not take lightly. Lancelot would only give that sort of praise to someone whom he respected and trusted absolutely, and Percival became even more intrigued.

He had not expected Merlin to look or act the way he did, but at the same time it made perfect sense. In the way that the young man moved and spoke and acted, it was clear that he had total faith in his friends and the intelligence, although somewhat masked by his cheerfulness, to help them whatever way he could.

Percival did not know the future king personally, but to have such men as Lancelot and Merlin supporting him, he was clearly a good man and one Percival would follow to the last breath.

Gaius stood up with more confidence than he'd shown earlier in the day. He spoke of his age, but not depreciatingly like he'd done over the past few days. "If you need an old man." _I will support you to my dying breath in whatever way I can, Arthur. Merlin, I will support you until the end of time._

He was so proud of both young men. They had come so far. Arthur was showing traces of becoming a truly great king, and he was proud of whatever hand he had in that. Merlin, also, was showing more and more of the wise and powerful Emrys he was destined to be, and he had loved every moment that he had helped guide the boy along his destiny. Now together, the two would be able to take their first steps into fulfilling their destiny.

Gaius would do whatever small thing he could to help the boys along their path. He had promised silent allegiance to Arthur since his birth, but ever since the gangly warlock had stumbled into his life, Gaius' allegiance to him would always be first.

Gwen smiled. "You know the answer." _Both of you know it._

Arthur was her true love, the one person that she valued more than anyone else. Merlin was the greatest friend she'd ever had. She would follow either of them down whatever path they would choose, but she had a feeling that it would often be the same path.

She had had feelings for Merlin when they had first met, but the thoughts had soon enough faded, leaving in their place a strong and steadfast friendship. She had fallen in love with Arthur, but in his own way Merlin had helped that happen. He'd supported them both, sacrificed for them both, cared about them both. If it hadn't been for Merlin to open her eyes and to open up Arthur's heart, the two of them would have never found each other. They would have lived as king who was arrogant and maidservant who secretly despised him as the bully he was.

Gwen could never thank Merlin enough for his friendship and his faith to her, and the friendship and support he gave to Arthur. She would gladly go through any difficulties to help them both.

She loved Arthur, and her heart and allegiance would always be his. But an equally strong promise was made to her greatest friend – to support him and those he supported the way he had supported her.

In the silence, all eyes turned to the one man who was still sitting down, the person who they were all unconsciously expected to be the first to jump into the promises. But then, Merlin had always done his job in the background and maybe felt that throwing himself into the forefront would ruin the moment. But the delay was pushing things a bit.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked with a barely straight face, not even looking at his friend.

Merlin looked up seriously before saying with a deadpan face. "No, I don't fancy it." They could all see the joke in his eye.

"You don't have a choice, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged. "Ok."

The others around the table watched as both men looked at each other before nodding solemnly, in complete agreement with each other.

Merlin hadn't said anything, had not pledged his loyalty with words. He didn't have to.

He had proven his fealty in that single nod. He had proven his fealty when he wrote the letter to Lancelot. He had proven it when following Arthur into danger without hesitation, even when the prince himself forbade it. He had proven it by sticking around the prince long enough to help form him into a true king. He had proven it by sticking by his friends through good and bad times. He had proven it by being a man that could be trusted absolutely by other great men. He had proven it by not running from his destiny, even when his destiny would often be a taskmaster and a prat, and would have meant his death to stay around and fulfill. He had proven it by risking everything to make those he cared about happy.

He didn't say anything about that. He didn't have to.

They all knew it. And that is why when they swore allegiance to Arthur, they also looked at his manservant.

* * *

A/N: And there it is. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks for reading and please review! I like to hear what you think and they make me happy! Thanks to all those who have reviewed, I will be getting to you soon!


	9. For Want of a Chainmail

Greetings Readers! Here's the next oneshot, I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: Spoilers for 4x06 (I loved that episode!), friendship/hurt/humor.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters. But that would be so sweet!

* * *

It was one of the unofficial rules in the knight's code of honor – if one of your brothers fell, it was your responsibility to bring the sad news to his family and friends. Leon had had to bear such sad tidings far too often over his several years, but that never made it any easier.

Standing in front of his king and the council, however, and having to tell them that Merlin had not been found and was likely dead was probably the hardest thing he would ever have to do. More so because he had to appear strong in front of the council when all he really wanted to do was tear something in two and properly grieve with the other knights who knew Merlin best.

He could understand Arthur's need to believe that there was still hope for Merlin – that he had survived. But he knew, without a doubt, that Merlin could not still be alive; the proof was in the pouch around his tunic. He also knew that Arthur could not be allowed to see it, but that option was taken away from him.

Leon could not deny the flash of anger that bolted through him as Agravaine interrupted his gentle but persistent message that Merlin was nowhere to be found by ripping the piece of evidence from his bag. The king's uncle or not, Leon could have willingly strangled the man for striding forward and so callously placing the bloodstained torn piece of coat in front of Arthur.

Arthur stared at the piece for a few seconds, all sorts of emotions swirling through his eyes, even through his mask of regal impassiveness, and Leon had to swallow hard. He could only imagine what Arthur was thinking at the moment. He himself could only shudder at the blood that soaked the worn fragment, and wondered how any of them could have let Merlin go into possible danger without any chainmail. Again.

As Leon was walking back down the corridor after being dismissed, his mind wandered to Merlin. Merlin was no warrior. He made it clear that he preferred peace to war and bloodshed, but also that he was willing to follow his king and friends into whatever battle they got themselves into. _And we sent a man like that into a skirmish with bloodthirsty assassins with absolutely no means to protect himself._

It made Leon sick to his stomach. It was part of his duty as a knight to protect those who were unable to protect themselves. It was part of his duty as a friend to keep his friends from as much harm as he possibly could. He had failed utterly on both accounts. Merlin never had even so much as a dagger to defend himself, and he still came along anyway.

The knights never thought much of it. Merlin always seemed to keep himself safe enough, and had even bailed Arthur out of a spot or two. It had never been obvious that he was going into battle after skirmish with no means to protect himself by running or hiding.

Arthur liked to tease and yell at Merlin for ducking and hiding 'like a coward' as he had put it often, but Leon knew, by instinct and by the way Arthur had looked on the ride home, that he would have much rather preferred that Merlin hide than be susceptible to such a wounding.

In their moments of graveyard humor (which sometimes came in handy when dealing with so much death), they used to joke that Merlin's loyalty would be the death of him. And now it really had been.

If only Merlin hadn't been so focused on alerting Arthur to danger that he had missed his own impending doom. If only he had turned around faster, or run when shouting his warning. Instead, he stood still long enough to see that Arthur had heeded his call before turning to stare at the rapidly approaching rider who was swinging his mace with deadly intent. There was no time for him to duck and hide, only to take the full brunt of the assassin's blow without any chainmail to dampen the impact.

Leon had happened to look over and see Merlin collapsed on the ground, his legs jutting out at strange angles, but had been too occupied with two bandits to assist him. He saw Arthur help the younger man up and then rush him out of the fray and to safety, and focused even more on keeping the bandits back and away from the wounded man. But some had slipped past him.

Leon grimaced as he pulled off the jangling, sweaty chainmail back in the armory, the jangling oddly magnified and grating in his ears, reminding him of the protection he'd always had that was denied Merlin. The bandits who had managed to get past him had been able to get Merlin. He had failed his friend. Merlin was gone, and the guilt and grief wore heavier on him than any chainmail in history.

~.~

The chambers felt all too big and empty that night. Arthur unconsciously kept pricking up his ears at every sound, his hopes tricking him into believing that Merlin was about to come barreling in, full of humor and chatter and wit like he always did. But then his better sense, his warrior's sense, took hold again and reminded that it was not Merlin. It would never be Merlin again.

He turned to look through the open window that faced out onto the courtyard, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the piece of worn cloth that he had not been able to bring himself to let go of since the council meeting. _Merlin, you idiot,_ he thought to himself, _why did you let this happen? Why didn't you run and hide? I tell you to be braver, but getting yourself wounded is not what I had in mind._

His mind tried to supply the ready retort that Merlin surely would have had had he been able to hear Arthur's words, but it fell far short and only made him slip deeper into guilt and grief. He held up the bloodied cloth so that he could better see it in the waning sunlight. If he hadn't seen the bloody, gaping wound for himself that had stained the jacket, he might have fooled himself into thinking that the stain was something entirely different. Maybe it had come from one of the dinners where Merlin had somehow managed to spill sauce or wine on himself while attempting to serve the king. But it hadn't.

Arthur noted the worn threads of the jacket fragment and scowled. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought that his was the same jacket that Merlin had worn on the first day they had met. It might have been – Merlin hadn't really changed his wardrobe much in the past four years. The same few shirts and neckerchiefs, and the one jacket. Did Merlin not make enough money to get more clothing?

Then Arthur realized that he was the one who was supposed to be responsible for how much money Merlin was getting, and he nearly smacked himself in the face. He hoped Merlin was getting paid enough – often, he forgot that Merlin had a paying job as his servant. Merlin seemed to forget that, too, or at least he never mentioned the payment or complained about the amount. Arthur would have to look into it and make sure he was paid enough.

And then he remembered that that didn't matter anymore, and his heart sank.

_What king am I?_ He rebuked himself. _If I can't even make sure my most trusted servant, my closest friend (_he could admit it sometimes in the sanctuary of his own head)_, has enough to feed and clothe himself, how could I drag him into battles without so much as a scrap of chainmail?_

It had been far too easy for the mace to rip into Merlin's skin. It had been far too easy for Arthur to push aside the bloodied shirt material to see the wound. There was no chainmail to block either of them. Merlin had never made a fuss about not being protected enough – although he fussed plenty about other things – so it was easy to forget that he was not untouchable, that he was not invulnerable to violence.

They had more than enough chainmail that they could have given Merlin some to protect himself. He had actually worn some, in fact, when he'd served as decoy to lure Caerleon and his men into a trap. But as soon as the subterfuge was through, Merlin had switched into his familiar clothes and discarded the chainmail. But they had it, and Arthur could have forced him to wear it, should have forced him to wear it. Then he would have been safe.

He wouldn't have been felled by a mace. He wouldn't have had to be hauled away from the fighting in the clearing. He wouldn't have been trapped with all those bandits and separated from Arthur as the rocks fell between them.

Arthur closed his eyes and gripped the stiff, coppery-smelling cloth tighter. He should have forced Merlin to wear the chainmail. He should have listened when Merlin warned them that nothing good had happened in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. He should have been able to save his friend.

Gwen came in to try and comfort Arthur, to give him hope that Merlin would return. He always had before, no matter what strange things to see to happen or when he would mysteriously appear only to return in time to help set things right. But then she saw the bloodied cloth and had to stop, struggling to keep back the tears were forming. She could not ignore the proof in front of her. Arthur couldn't either, no matter how he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the scratchy surface between his fingers. It was there for them both to see. Merlin was gone.

For the want of a chainmail, a friend was lost.

~.~

When Merlin was found safe and well (albeit incredibly muddy), it seemed to good to be true. But he was back and he was safe, and that was what mattered. In future years, just exactly how he'd managed it would be the source of some interesting discussions, but for now it was enough that he was back.

Leon and Arthur were determined not to make the same mistake again.

A week after Merlin's training with George, the knights and Arthur were preparing to leave on a quest, and they had a surprise for Merlin when he arrived after fetching their provisions.

To Merlin's credit, he managed to hold himself in for about half a minute before bursting into fits of laughter. "You want me to wear that?"

Arthur actually looked somewhat affronted. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's chainmail!" Merlin snickered. "I'm not about to wear that, thanks."

Merlin turned to fasten the provisions to his horse's saddle. Arthur followed, hauling the chainmail into his arms. "Merlin, wear it. That's an order."

With a twinkle in his eyes that was both understanding and teasing, Merlin shook his head. "Nah, I've already been there, done that. You realize how hard it is to run in all that mess?" He snorted in amusement. "It's ridiculous. Besides, you'd be taking away my chief defense. All I'm good for in battle is running."

His laughter was infectious and the others joined in as they got on their horses. The chainmail was left behind, and was never mentioned again.

However, he would never manage to talk his way out of taking Leon's dagger.

* * *

A/N: And there it is! I really do like that episode, and I really do hate the way Agravaine just plunks that bloody piece of fabric on the table. That's some way to show that a friend has died. I know he's evil, but that's really evil.

Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! I like to know what people think, and they make me happy!


	10. Banishment

Greetings Readers! Here's the next oneshot! I hope you like it!

This oneshot was born out of two things: my irritation that Merlin doesn't get a good venting for all the stuff he goes through during Season 4, and a suggestion from Aldryne21. I won't say what the suggestion is yet, but I will at the end of the story.

Warning: Fed-up Merlin, oblivious Arthur, friendship/drama, Spoilers up to 4x12.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

Merlin had been threatened with exile with increasing frequency and vehemency for the past few weeks. But when the banishment finally happened, it was self-imposed.

It was an almost ridiculously minor occurrence, but it was that final threat of banishment that was the last straw. It was not when Arthur almost angrily said he didn't need friends after executing King Caerleon. It was not when Arthur banished Gwen and then refused to listen to Merlin's pleas while wrapping himself in a mantle of grief and betrayal. It was not even when he threatened Merlin not once but twice during Princess Mithian's visit.

It was a usual breakfast in Arthur's chambers – Merlin chattering as he pulled back the curtains and readied Arthur's clothes, all while ducking the usual goblet and apple. Arthur had mentioned off-handedly as he shrugged on his jacket that he had a quick meeting with Agravaine before the council officially met, which made Merlin stiffen with suspicion. He knew Agravaine was up to no good; he trusted Gwen when she'd told him that he'd found the plans to the citadel, and Merlin did not like the idea of Arthur being alone with him.

"Be careful."

Two words. Two little words, and Arthur completely overreacted. He spun on his friend and vehemently rebuked him. "I'll not hear this. I've been forgiving until now, but I swear that you say another word against my council and you will be banished." He glared. "Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, sire." If Arthur had not been so consumed by irritation, he might have noticed how Merlin jerked back, how the light left his eyes. As it was, he knew that he was overreacting, but the thought that another person he trusted was betraying him was so emotionally painful that he would do anything to stop the voicing of said doubts.

"Do you require anything else?" Arthur shook his head, and Merlin gave the nod of a perfect servant before leaving.

~.~

"I'm leaving."

Gaius nearly upset the flask that he was delicately pouring a potion into and looked up into the determined but grieved face of his ward. "What?" He stood up. "Why? Does Arthur know?"

Merlin gave a somewhat better bark of laughter. "I'm starting to wonder if he knows _anything_." He shook his head. "No, he doesn't – I'm just tired of being almost banished all the time. If this is how Arthur reacts to the truth, it's only a matter of time before he banishes me for real." He sighed. "I'd rather leave on my own terms."

"But Merlin-"

Merlin held up a pleading hand. "Please, Gaius. It might not be for forever, but I need to leave now. If not, I worry I might let my anger get the better of me." _Like Morgana_. The words were not spoken, but both men heard them.

"Merlin," Gaius continued with a mix of worry and weariness, "you know Arthur doesn't mean it. He hides it, but he trusts you."

Only his deep love for his father figure kept Merlin from snorting in disbelief. Mithian had said something similar during her stay. "Arthur values your opinion above almost all others." That statement had brought a surprising amount of joy to his heart which helped him get through all that had happened during her visit, including the threats of banishment and finding Gwen wounded and alone.

But then, she'd only known him a few days. Gwen had said, when she'd come to comfort Merlin during Gaius' kidnapping, "Arthur trusts Agravaine more than anyone." Gwen had known Arthur much longer than the princess, so she was probably closer to the mark.

"Not enough," Merlin replied, shifting the small bag he'd managed to pack to the other side of his back. "Don't worry, Gaius, I'm not abandoning destiny. I'll still protect the prat – just from more of a distance."

Gaius walked over to the younger man, putting his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "I'm not worried about that – I'm worried about you." He looked his surrogate son in the eye. "Where will you go? What about me and all your friends here?"

Merlin gripped the other's arm reassuringly. "I'll write. I'll visit when I don't think I'll get caught. I'm not abandoning you."

"I know." Gaius sighed. "Merlin, please don't go."

Merlin smiled sadly and stepped backward after a final squeeze of Gaius' arm. "I'm sorry," he said, turning to leave, "I have to."

~.~

Arthur had thought it strange when, the night before, there had been his dinner on the desk and the bedclothes pulled back, but no Merlin. However, he hadn't been too concerned since Gaius had been busy the past few days and likely had asked for Merlin's assistance. That, and he'd been so exhausted after council and training that he only had the energy to bolt down his cooling dinner and collapse into bed before falling asleep.

But when the light, rather than Merlin's obnoxiously cheery voice, woke him, he knew something was wrong.

He blinked the bleariness from his eyes and looked around to see breakfast spread on the table beside him, and a tub of bathwater with steam rising off it near the screen he changed behind. But no Merlin. He shifted onto his side, startling the manservant standing beside the bed who was reaching down to rouse him. "George?"

"At your service, sire." The manservant said primly and properly as he efficiently shifted the pillows behind Arthur's back before spreading a pristine cloth napkin over his chest. Arthur just stared at him as the man turned to pick up a plate and fork. _Where is Merlin?_

It was possible that he had stayed with Gaius into the early morning to help with any severely ill patients, but he never sent a replacement. He would usually be too occupied with tending to the patient to do such a thing. Occasionally he'd ask Gwen – a sharp dagger seemed to pierce his heart at the reminder – to give Arthur a hand, as she would have come in to help tend to the patients, despite technically being a lady after Elyan's knighting.

And it was too early for even Merlin to be at the tavern.

"George." He said, and the manservant turned with such speed that his heels clicked together. "Where is Merlin?"

A look of unease crossed George's face and he was clearly conflicted in how to answer the question. Arthur sat up straighter, a bolt of worry shooting through him. "Where is he?"

Only years of training and strict personal discipline kept George from shuffling his feet. He knew the king would not like his answer. "He quit, sire."

There was a moment of dead silence.

"He WHAT?"

~.~

Gaius continued stirring the medicine he was preparing for the cook who'd been having problems with her left wrist, trying to ignore the emptiness that filled his heart at Merlin's absence. Out of habit, he'd called Merlin at least twice to get his lazy bones down for breakfast before remembering that his ward was gone. He knew he would miss Merlin, but hadn't known just how much.

Just as he was forcing himself to refocus on the medicine, the door to his chambers banged open. He looked up to see Arthur rushing in, questions and bewilderment in his eyes. Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Sire. I would prefer next time you knock. If I had a patient in here, I would have liked to make sure they were decent first." He turned back to his medicine. "Luckily, I've had no overnight patients for a while."

Arthur stopped. "You didn't have any patients here last night?"

"No, sire."

Arthur looked puzzled. "Then why wasn't he…."

"He left last night, sire."

"Why would he leave?"

Gaius looked up. "He said he was being banished."

The king blinked. And then blinked again. "Why would he think that?"

Gaius gave him a look that he recognized from his time as a young knight being trained to deal with battlefield injuries and he'd been so ill at ease that he'd managed to tie the bandage on the wrong arm. It was a mix of disbelief and resignation that never failed to make Arthur feel like a blockhead. Gaius, having known the prince since he'd helped deliver him, was one of the increasingly few people who could still pull that off.

"Well, sire…"

~.~

It took him much longer than it did usually to reach the Lake of Avalon, given that he'd opted on walking rather than taking his horse, which he supposed wasn't technically his anymore now that he'd left. Merlin didn't mind, though, as the walk gave him a chance to clear his mind and remain undetected as he walked briskly out of Camelot and into the forest.

When he arrived, he didn't stop for long. He only paused long enough to brush his fingers across the surface of the water, and whisper a heartfelt promise to return soon and frequently to his beloved who rested below the lake before walking away, farther from Camelot.

Merlin walked through the night, the glow of the waning moon lighting up his determined but solemn face as he continued on his way, not sure of his destination but needing to get further away. He'd been walking for several hours when he came to a stop in an open clearing.

Breathing heavily, Merlin allowed all the emotions he'd been trying to hold back to crash around inside his mind, colliding cacophonously together. Gaius being kidnapped. Gwen being banished. Lancelot being disgraced and used as a puppet. The knights threatening him and Gwen for speaking truth. Agravaine lying and being believed. Arthur believing Agravaine despite him being proved wrong so many times. Arthur yelling and threatening his friends. Arthur not believing him…

It all became a massive, boiling rage and Merlin reared back his head and yelled.

He wasn't sure of half of what he was yelling – he knew that half was full of disbelief and curses that would have made his mother run for the soap had she been in hearing, but the other half was probably better not known.

It was too much. Living two lives had always been tricky, especially since he was living in a place where one of those lives would get him killed on the spot, no matter how hard he'd tried to change Arthur mind to the contrary. It was hard working for Arthur, working for Gaius, helping anyone who needed help and trying to thwart any of Morgana's plans while trying not to be too obvious in front of Agravaine. He didn't need his prat of an almost-friend yelling at him, threatening him with all sorts of things for trying to _help_.

When people asked him why he would serve Arthur, especially those who had magic and knew of his, he always had a ready answer. Except now, he wasn't sure he totally believed it. There was too much frustration and bitterness in Arthur's heart right now, and it was only natural that Merlin would be suffering from those same effects. It was just that Merlin had to deal with that and with his secret, and with his knowledge about what had been really happening in Camelot for the past few months since Agravaine had arrived.

By the time Merlin had finished yelling, he was on his knees and panting heavily as he stared at the ground. He was feeling somewhat better and even managed a half-amused snort of laughter as he straightened up. _And even after all that, I still see that prat as my friend._

He drew up his legs into a sitting position and sighed. Merlin had really thought that, after Mithian's visit when Arthur had for once actually directly asked for his advice, things were on the mend between them. That Arthur had realized how much Merlin wanted to help and how much his help was really worth. But apparently he had been wrong.

There was an oddly familiar rushing of wind behind Merlin, and he turned around to see Kilgharrah landing behind him with a surprising amount of grace given his large build. Merlin blinked several times.

"What are you doing here?"

Kilgharrah – somehow – quirked an eyebrow as he looked down at the dragonlord. "You summoned me, young warlock."

"But I didn't summon –" Merlin started, and then stopped. A thick red blush spread across his face as he realized just what the other half of his yelling must have been. "Oh."

The dragon began to shake slightly and Merlin was less than pleased to see that KIlgharrah was clearly trying to hold back his laughter. The last thing he needed right then was a dragon laughing at him.

Kilgharrah managed to calm down slightly. "You seemed distressed, Merlin. What's troubling you?"

"My prat of a destiny." Merlin groaned, standing up. "He was going to banish me, so I figured I would just beat him to it."

"Merlin!" Kilgharrah sounded scandalized, and about to launch into some sort of rant when Merlin cut him off with a hand.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'm not abandoning my destiny. I'll still protect him like I'm supposed to – he just won't know it's me." He snorted slightly. "Actually, that's not really that much different from now."

The great dragon shook his head. "It's not just your destiny I am worried about, young warlock. It is you." He settled down more comfortably on the ground and looked at Merlin. "Camelot is your home, the home you will one day make into Albion. How can you leave?"

Merlin shrugged. "Better to leave than be banished."

"One cannot hate what makes it whole," the dragon said sagely.

Merlin shook his head. "You didn't see the way he spoke to me, the way he looked at me like I was almost an enemy." He sat down himself. "It hurts – I've done so much for him, Gwen and the others have done so much for him, and he just keeps shoving us away. And for who? Some uncle who's going to betray him openly as soon as it best suits him."

He crossed his arms around his folded legs. "There's no point in me staying there when I can protect his destiny just as well from the outside."

"But you are not happy out here."

Merlin smiled at the actual concern in the great dragon's voice. "And I was happy there?"

Kilgharrah nodded solemnly before raising his head. "Come, young warlock, I've something to show you." The Great Dragon stood up, extending one wing downwards and indicating that Merlin should climb on.

A purely cheeky grin spread across Merlin's face. "You want me to ride you?"

Kilgharrah looked grievously offended. "I'm not a_horse_, Merlin! Just get on."

Merlin obliged.

~.~

"Whooo!" Merlin bellowed joyously as the dragonlord and dragon soared through the early morning sky, the wind whipping past hair and scale and the heavens twinkling gloriously up above. The feeling of flight, of freedom, was absolutely intoxicating and Merlin was drinking it in with abandon. It was as though the weight of the responsibilities and secrets he bore fell away as they pushed off the ground, and he felt more free than he had in a long time.

"If you would cease all that shouting," Kilgharrah sounded amused, "you should look to the north, Merlin, and see what is there."

Merlin looked ahead obligingly, and saw Camelot. His heart panged almost painfully and he felt an odd sense of homesickness as he looked down onto the kingdom. He could see all the roads he'd walked when running errands for Arthur or spending time with Gwen. He could see the taverns where he'd had to haul Gwaine, laughing and drunk, out of when the two had overstayed their various welcomes. He saw the training grounds, the square, the stables, and all the memories he'd had of all the places, the good and the bad, assaulted him all at once. But it was strangely buffering, the onslaught of memories, and unbidden, the faces of those he cared about filled his mind. Gaius. Gwaine. Gwen. Leon. Elyan. Percival. Arthur…

With a jolt, he realized what the great dragon had been trying to say. He _couldn't_ leave Camelot – not because of his destiny, but because it was his home. It had been home for a long time now, and he couldn't just leave it behind. If he tried, part of his heart would be left behind with it.

He loved Camelot more than he had ever loved Ealdor, even with his mother still living there. He could protect it from a distance, but he would be miserable. His place was there. His _friends _were there.

And one of those friends was a stupid prat of a king – no matter how much either of them would openly deny that. He just couldn't leave.

Merlin's soul and Kilgharrah's soul were brothers, and the dragon could feel the lessening of stress in the young man's shoulders and the peace of mind that was settling over him as they began to turn away from Camelot. "You see the wisdom of my words, young warlock?"

Merlin sighed. "Yes." He took in a deep breath of the gusting night air. "I need to go back – it's my home." He shot a cheeky glance at the dragon. "But why can't I make him suffer a bit first?"

There was a rich booming roar of laughter as the dragon began tilted downward towards the clearing. "Now when did I ever say you couldn't?"

~.~

Arthur was grateful, for once, that he'd been holed up in his chambers all day reviewing treaties and other documents – he hadn't had to walk around everybody and have to deal with all the questions about Merlin. He hadn't said anything to anyone, but the gossip in the castle traveled faster than sound itself and almost everyone knew the manservant was gone. Luckily, no one knew that he had been 'banished' – if that had been the case, Arthur was sure that Gwaine would have come barreling up and thrown down his gauntlet as soon as he'd heard.

It was a shockingly normal occurrence for Merlin to disappear for periods of time before coming back just when things were about to get serious, so no one had questioned it. Some thought he'd gone to see his mother in Ealdor, and a few others even thought he'd gone to escort Gwen there. But no one knew the truth besides Arthur and Gaius – and frankly, Arthur still couldn't believe it.

_Why would he think he had been banished?_ Gaius hadn't been particularly helpful, beyond citing the multiple occasions that Arthur had threatened Merlin with banishment. But that was why Merlin _shouldn't_ have taken that last threat seriously; Arthur had said it enough that one more time should have been like water off a duck's back. But apparently he had gone too far.

Dealing with Merlin's loss for a few days had been hard enough, back when they'd been cornered by the mercenaries in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Dealing with his loss forever was going to be hard. Incredibly hard.

Arthur tossed his quill to the side irritably, and gritted his teeth as George nimbly bent down to pick it up before placing the king's dinner on the table. How could he had ever enjoyed people being deferent to him? It had only been a day with this bootlicker and Arthur was close to ripping his hair out with irritation. It hadn't been so hard the first time because he expected Merlin to be found and for things to go back to normal. But this time he wasn't coming back.

Determination fueled Arthur and he stood up, resolutely ignoring the frantic fluttering of his temporary manservant as he tried to get his master to sit back down so he could refasten his cloth napkin. He was Arthur Pendragon, and he did not give up at the first sign of problems. If his idiot best friend was running away for whatever confused reason, then it was his duty to bring him back. Merlin might be stubborn, but he couldn't possibly be as stubborn as his king.

"I'm going for a ride." Arthur said in his no-nonsense, regal tone. "I should be back within a few hours." He began striding towards the door, and just noticed his prim shadow following him. "Stay here. And don't you dare try to saddle my horse for me." And with that, he left his bewildered servant behind as he shut the door.

~.~

Now that Merlin had decided to call off his self-banishment, he wasn't sure what to do with himself in the interim. It would be too far to go see his mother in Ealdor and he didn't really fancy trying to make a camp in the forests outside of Camelot. Now that he'd decided to stop running, he had no desire to run into any thieves or bandits. He might not have hesitated to use magic before against them, having not planned to return to Camelot, but his decision to return meant his magic – and his only means of defending himself – would have to remain hidden.

So he let himself be drawn to the meditative solitude of the Lake of Avalon, feeling the calming presence of his beloved beneath the water soothing him as he lay on his back and looked into the darkening sky. He had been walking much more slowly after he and Kilgharrah had parted ways, and had only arrived at the lake as the sun was beginning to set.

His stomach grumbled, irritated that he'd only eaten two fish that he'd caught in a nearby stream that day, but he chose to ignore it, devoting himself totally to the peace he found here. A peace that he had not been able to truly find in Camelot for some time.

Everything would work out in the end. It had to – Merlin had faith that it would have to. Until then, it was likely that they would have rough times ahead.

Merlin heard the slight cracking of brush behind him but pretended he didn't – instead keeping his eyes closed and savoring the last few moments of peace before he returned to Camelot.

Arthur had wracked his brain trying to think of where Merlin might be, being pretty sure that he would not have stayed in the kingdom or in any of the local villages – someone would have seen him and reported his presence to any of the several people who were inquiring after him. The only other option he had thought of was the Lake of Avalon where Merlin had gone to be alone before, but he hadn't expected him to still be there. Surely Merlin would have moved on in the day that he had been gone. But luckily he was wrong, and his quarry was right in front of him.

"You only got this far?" Arthur asked, and internally smacked himself. Condescending really wasn't the tone he should be setting here.

Merlin sat up and opened his eyes, although he did not face Arthur. Instead he stared out over the lake. "Clearly, sire."

"How could you only get this far? Were you walking backwards out of Camelot?" Arthur really needed to work on getting the words he actually wanted to say to come out of his mouth. He wasn't sure where the mocking was coming from; possibly from a need to get a snappy comeback from Merlin. Something that would show that the situation would be getting back to normal.

If so, he was disappointed with Merlin's response. "I walked this way, your highness. I did not want to use a horse from the royal stables – that would have been considered theft." He stood up. "And you are right, sire. I am far too close to the castle, but I will remedy that right-"

Arthur moved to block Merlin's path. "What are you talking about? What made you think you had to leave?"

Merlin arched his eyebrow in a way that made Arthur suspect that he'd been taking lessons from Gaius in how to look at Arthur like he was a blockhead. "Well, sire, the five or six threats of banishment were a start." Arthur opened his mouth, but Merlin cut him off. "And don't say you didn't mean them – I know better."

Arthur gaped like a fish for a moment, giving Merlin the chance to skirt around the king and began walking away. "I didn't mean them – not seriously." He struggled to retain some dignity. "And I was not the one flying off the handle, Merlin – I never said you were banished, just that I might in future."

"Somehow, sire," Merlin said, rolling his eyes although with his back to Arthur, "I don't find that much more reassuring."

"How else am I supposed to react when someone speaks near treason about my council?" Arthur demanded, although the demand was more for understanding than anything else. "Just let it pass?"

"No, but listening would be a nice change." Merlin turned to face Arthur. "Look, I don't expect you to agree with everything I say – the world would probably come to an end if you did. It's just…you need to listen to people other than yourself_" and your uncle,_ he silently added. "And since those speaking their minds are likely to be banished, you're better stuck with a bootlicker for a servant. I might as well leave of my own will then wait for you to take the choice from me."

"Wait," Arthur stared disbelievingly at Merlin for a moment. "You _knew_ that I hadn't banished you?"

Merlin's other eyebrow quirked up to meet its brother. "Obviously. I listen." _Unlike you, you prat._ He added silently, but Arthur saw the playful insult in Merlin's eyes and relaxed.

Arthur swallowed his pride. This was going to be hard to say, but it would be harder to see his friend go. Probably. "Look, Merlin. If I promise to," he swallowed, "listen to you more, would you come back to Camelot?"

The look of glee on Merlin's face was hard to take even if his wide grin was a very welcome change to the mask of servitude he'd been wearing earlier. "Does that mean you missed me?"

Arthur snorted. "Of course not. I just need someone to save me from George's appalling sense of humor. Terrible servant you may be, but at least you don't make jokes about _brass_." He shuddered.

Merlin read through the lines – as one often had to do when dealing with Arthur – to see that Arthur was saying yes to his question. Although he would probably die before admitting it.

"Do I get a raise if I come back?" Merlin asked as he began to follow Arthur back to his horse.

"Don't be stupid." Arthur barked as he cuffed Merlin affectionately on the shoulder. "You're lucky to have the job as it is." He looked seriously at his friend for a moment. "We both are." Then to cover face, he grabbed the horse's reins and the two men walked back home to Camelot together, the horse being lead beside them.

Equals, on equal footing.

* * *

A/N: That was a long one, too. Phew.

Anyway, Aldryne21's suggestion was to have Merlin inadvertently yell out a summons for Kilgharrah if he lost his temper and started yelling. I'd originally meant for that to be more humorous, so it might resurface later. I hope they like it!

Thanks for reading and please review! I like to know what you think, and they make me happy!


	11. Protector

Greetings Readers! Here's the next oneshot.

I really enjoyed writing this oneshot – it got a bit darker than I had planned, but it still has hardcore, protective, BAMF!Merlin in it, which was my main plan. The idea of a protective Merlin story came from Forever Day, so thanks for that! I plan on some funny, bromancy stories to come soon!

Warning: After season 4, post-reveal fic. Protective, BAMF! Merlin

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

Whoever first coined the phrase, "sleep like a baby," ought to be stood in front of a line of Camelot's finest archers and shot.

Gwen turned over in bed and groaned as the little one in her womb gave another strong kick, far too energetic for the late hour of the night. If there was anything worse than being alone in the large bed or having an overactive child who moved at ungodly hours of the night, it was being alone in the bed and being kept awake by an overactive child in the middle of the night.

Even in her sleep-deprived mind, Gwen knew she couldn't be mad at Arthur for being gone. Given how he'd hovered over her for the past few months, she knew he'd been loath to leave her alone, especially so close to the date of the expected birth. But the skirmishes near the northern border had grown so severe that they required the king's personal attention, and so he'd ridden off with his closest knights early that morning, promising to be back as soon as he could. Not even Merlin was around to keep her company – something about the manner of the skirmishes seemed to be magical in nature, and so Arthur had insisted that the Court Warlock accompany him and the rest of the knights.

Both Arthur and Gwen – and Elyan, who'd also had to come and investigate the skirmishes – would have preferred that Merlin be able to stay behind. Arthur, because he trusted his friend with his and Gwen's lives, and Gwen because she preferred her friend's company to the near-perpetual hovering of her lady's maid who, God bless her, was a bootlicker.

Arthur had set up a double guard around their chambers, but he still felt distinctly uneasy about leaving. Gwen had put on a brave face as they'd left, and hoped that Merlin would be able to calm him down and keep him focused. The last thing any of them needed was for the king to get killed during a minor skirmish because he'd been distracted by thoughts of his pregnant wife.

Gwen sighed and rolled into a more comfortable position. She would have faith. If anyone could keep Arthur safe, it was Merlin.

A chill traveled across her skin, and she shivered. _A goose walking over my grave,_ she thought sleepily but then stopped as noticed the swathes of cloth attached to the bedposts were swaying, as though in a breeze. But the windows were closed – Gaius had advised against night chills when they'd found that Gwen was pregnant – so there shouldn't have been a breeze.

But before Gwen could manage to puzzle it out, a hand on her mouth and a blade at her throat answered her question for her.

"Keep still, your highness," a hoarse male voice whispered as he turned her onto her back.

"Who are you?" She asked as he pulled his hand off her mouth.

"My name is unimportant," the man said as he pressed the blade closer to her throat, "As is everything but my purpose for being here." His eyes glittered maliciously in the moonlight. "Revenge."

"What have I done to you?"

"it is not you, your highness," he laughed bitterly, "but for your fleabitten husband that I seek revenge. He had taken everything from me," he snarled, "and is so _arrogant_ he doesn't even realize it." He removed the dagger from her neck, replacing it with his hand. "But he will know my pain now. Now I will be taking the one he loves from him."

Gwen's heart began beating at a terrifying rate. If only she had been closer to the sword they kept at the other side of the bed, she might have been able to defend herself.

The man brought down the dagger towards her belly, and she could feel the point of it poking through the fabric of her nightgown.

"It will kill him to know his sins have caused the death of his child."

And Gwen's heart stopped. She began struggling then, a mother's love overruling her common sense, as she tried to move so that the blade was above anyplace that was not protecting her child. The man gripped her mouth so tightly that his fingernails cut into her cheek. "Don't struggle, your highness. I have no quarrel with you. I simply cannot allow his spawn to live."

He drew the dagger delicately across her stomach, not enough to cut but enough to make her tremble in fear and anger. "I studied once with a physician," he commented lightly, far too lightly for the situation, "and I learned several things. For example, how to slice into a woman's belly in a way that will not kill her, to retrieve a child." He shrugged. "Admittedly, it was to perform a birth, but the principle is the same. If you keep quiet," he looked at her, "you may keep your life. But should you scream, I will kill you and your child will die anyway." He smiled at her, with no sincerity in the action. "Aren't I being merciful?"

"You will never get away with this!" Gwen spat and the smile slipped from the assassin's mouth, only to be replaced with a smirk.

"So be it," he sneered, and began to bring the blade back.

Suddenly, the handle of the blade glowed with a strange red light and the assassin dropped it, howling with pain.

"Step away from the queen and her child," a steely voice said from the shadows, "now."

A cloaked figure stepped forward just enough so that his silhouette could be seen by the others in the room. The figure took a glance at where Gwen was unharmed in bed before facing the assassin, who was still shaking his burned hand. "This is your only chance for mercy," he said authoritatively, "I suggest you take it. Leave now."

"Never," the assassin hissed, "I've come too far to stop now." And he sprinted toward the bed.

The cloaked man held out both hands, and the assassin was launched back into the wall and pinned there. Gwen looked over to her rescuer to see that the force of his spell had pushed the hood of his cloak back. It was Merlin.

"Who are you?" The man gaped, in genuine fear of the man's power. He hadn't spoken a word to send him into the wall.

"A friend of the queen," Merlin said dryly, "and you will regret trying to harm her."

The assassin began struggling. "I had good reason. You have no idea what I've been through."

Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and the man cringed slightly. When the gold faded from his eyes, there was anger and disgust in his face. "I have every idea." He began walking forward. "You are a greedy man who has brought his every misfortune upon himself. You blame Arthur because you cannot bring yourself to take responsibility for your actions, even though his only 'crime' was to save the village you nearly destroyed rather than take the time to defend your spoils."

There was barely an inch between the two as Merlin glared at the shocked man. "And you would harm two innocents to punish a man who is guiltless."

If Gwen hadn't been reeling from shock, she might have been amused at the sheer terror on her attacker's face.

Merlin took a step back. "I ought to show you the same treatment you would give to others," the other man flinched and closed his eyes, "but I won't."

The assassin stared dumbly at him. "I will show you mercy for two reasons: one, because my friend has known enough violence this night. And two, you can warn the rest of those that plot against the queen and her child that they are protected by me. None shall harm them as long as I breathe, and any foolish enough to try will regret it." With a wave of his hand, the assassin crumpled to the floor as he was freed from his bonds.

"And if you ever return, Gyrnes," Merlin said, "I will show you no mercy. Go."

Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and the almost-assassin found himself in the middle of the courtyard where he promptly fainted.

As soon as Gyrnes had vanished, Merlin rushed over to the bed where Gwen was shaking. "You're safe now." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Most people would have asked if she was all right. Merlin knew better.

"How…" Gwen swallowed, trying to get her voice back, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin laughed and rolled his eyes. "That's what you say first? I think Arthur's starting to rub off on you, and that's not a good thing." The teasing glint in his eyes made Gwen start laughing, and the tension left her shoulders.

She reached up and laid her hand over Merlin's. "Merlin," she said seriously, "I don't know how I can ever thank you for this."

"You don't have to," Merlin assured her. "But if you want, you could always name me godfather. Arthur's been a bit cagey about the whole thing…" Merlin trailed off as eh noted the curious way she was reaching for her stomach. "Do you want me to check on the little one?"

Gwen nodded, and Merlin reached down gently to place his palm over her stomach. His eyes glowed and she could feel a warm, soothing presence seep below her skin, punctuated by a sharp kick. Merlin pulled back his hand. "All's well."

"Thank you, Merlin."

Merlin grinned down at her and stood up, walking around the perimeter of the room. "I don't sense anything – you're both safe now."

"'Sense anything?'" Gwen sat up. "Is that how you knew to come here?"

"Yep," Merlin nodded, "It's like when Arthur needs help, only far less prattish." He snorted. "Speaking of which, he's going to be a real prat when I see him – didn't give him much of an excuse before I left." He walked back to the bed. "But I'll let you get some sleep now."

"All right," Gwen nodded and laid back down, but her body was still shivering.

Merlin noticed. He sat down beside her and put a hand over her trembling one. "Gwen," he said gently, "would you like me to stay?"

"Would you?"

"Of course," he squeezed her hand. "Sleep well, Gwen, I'll be here. You're safe."

Gwen smiled gratefully before slipping into sleep. Merlin pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, keeping his hand on his friend's wrist.

And that was how Arthur found them the next morning when he rushed in to check on Gwen. "There you are, Merlin! We wondered where on earth you'd gone off to –" He stopped, seeing his wife asleep and Merlin just blinking weariness from his eyes and rolling his hunched shoulders in the chair beside her. "Oi! What are you doing with my wife?"

Arthur and Merlin both got the joke, but Gwen, who woke up at the exclamation, did not find it nearly as funny. She, after all, was a very pregnant woman who had had only a few hours of sleep and had been threatened the night before. "Arthur Pendragon," she began slowly and menacingly, and both men flinched back, "you better have a good reason for waking me up at this hour!"

Arthur winced and looked pleadingly at Merlin, who simply shrugged before grinning impishly and disappearing with a golden flash. He was smart enough to escape when he could.

He'd fought witches, sorcerers, magical beasts, assassins, and the undead – but a tired and pregnant Gwen was truly terrifying.

The next morning, two interesting things happened: an alleged assassin was escorted to the dungeons from where he had fainted in the courtyard, all the while babbling about keeping the madman away from him.

Also, the court warlock was named godfather of the unborn heir.

* * *

A/N: That's it! I hope you liked it!

Thanks for reading and please review! I like to know what you all think, and they make me happy! Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far!


	12. Last Respects

Greetings Readers! Here is the next oneshot!

This was inspired by a suggestion from Xylie. Thanks! So here it is!

Warning: Season 4 spoilers, hurt/comfort/friendship

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

Five days after Merlin revealed his magic, there was a funeral.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon as the funeral began. The king was near the front, his face displaying a mix of grief and guilt that he was attempting to cover with an impassive façade. The queen followed closely behind, her eyes welling slightly with tears and she passed her sleeve across her eyes several times as they walked. A crowd of peasants and guards led by the knights followed a respectful distance behind, most holding unlit candles.

Arthur looked ahead at the figure slowly but smoothly navigating through the brush, and called out, "Merlin, are we almost there?"

"Nearly," Merlin called back without slackening his pace, using his staff to break apart underlying brush and steady his steps. It was a strange feeling that filled the warlock as he led the crowd to the burial site, a feeling that was so enveloping that he was only just aware of the crowd behind him. It was the feeling of regret and sorrow that normally permeated a funeral, but it intermingled with a poignant joy and an overwhelming relief in finally seeing justice done.

Merlin finally came to a stop in front of the overhanging branches of a tree. He grabbed the ends of the branches and pulled them to the side, revealing the burial site. Arthur nearly stopped in his tracks with a sharp intake of breath at the familiar place, and he could hear some of his closest knights doing the same as they recognized the area, but the rest of the group issued past them through the gap Merlin had created.

Arthur, holding Gwen's hand tightly, followed his subjects through the gap, the knights flanking them both, although in brotherly solidarity rather than for their protection. Merlin stepped behind them and let the branches fall back into their place before joining them.

Arthur stepped to the shores of the lake before turning and facing the people. He took a deep breath and looked at Gwen, the knights, and Merlin. The queen blinked back tears and smiled, the knights stood tall and looked at him with fidelity, and Merlin gave him a small, encouraging nod.

"We are here," Arthur began, "to honor the passing of Sir Lancelot of Camelot."

Merlin blinked back a tear and smiled. _It looks like third time's the charm, my friend._

It was certainly a strange thing to have a third funeral for a man, but then most thought it strange that a powerful warlock had not only been among them for years but was also the king's clumsy manservant, so it seemed Camelot was on a roll with strange occurrences.

And it was the noble thing to do, given all that had come out after Merlin had discovered the cursed bracelet the shade-Lancelot had given to Gwen. It had been on the fourthday after his magic had been revealed, and he'd grown rather bored with being stuck in the dungeons for three days. So bored that he started rearranging what little was provided in the cells just for something to do. It had been a relatively mindless task and he hadn't been putting a whole lot of attention to what he was doing until his hand grazed the bracelet. Then he had reeled back at the unexpected jolt of magic that had a bitter and painfully familiar feel to it. Merlin had pulled back the wilting hay to see the oddly shiny metal of the bracelet. He had picked it up, and with just one touch, discovered what magic it was and who had cast it. _Morgana_, he mentally hissed.

Merlin had just been debating the merits of simply blasting the cell door open and telling Arthur about what had happened or just staying put until the prat saw fit to let him out when Arthur showed up, with a look as close to being apologetic as he ever would have without someone actually dying.

It wasn't as though Arthur had particularly _wanted_ to throw his manservant and closest friend in the dungeon – but sorcery was technically still against the law when the magic had been revealed, and he had been so shocked that he hadn't been sure what to do. So he fell back on tradition.

And right after Merlin had been escorted away – and he really had been escorted there, none of the guards seemed to want to roughhandle him out of respect or fear or both – Arthur had gone to Gaius.

He had received an earful (as had the knights of the round table and Gwen who had unceremoniously burst into Gaius' chambers upon hearing Merlin was in the dungeons). He heard stories that made him want to strangle Merlin and a lot more that made him want to hug and thank his friend. But he'd known that Gaius was not the best person to hear Merlin's story from – that would be Merlin himself.

When he went down to the dungeons in the early morning of the second day, he was down there for a long time. There was a lot of yelling, apologizing, and arguing from both sides – and at the end of the conversation Arthur rushed upstairs, determined to abolish the laws banning sorcery.

Unfortunately, he was in such haste that he forgot to mention that detail to Merlin.

By the time he'd realized that, at about noon on the third day, he'd grinned a bit mischievously to himself in the middle of the council meeting. _Serves him right for lying to me_, he smirked to himself, _he'll be out soon enough._

One thing Arthur had not taken into account, however, was that his wife and knights, not being a part of the council, were aware of just as much of the proceedings as Merlin. And they had come to a very different conclusion than their magical friend, who seemed oddly relaxed for a man in the cells.

Merlin, unlike his friends who were coming down to the cells with increasingly ridiculous methods of escaping, knew after two days had passed that Arthur was just being forgetful or a prat or both. Arthur was a good man, when he didn't let anger rule his head. And since he hadn't snapped and ordered Merlin to be executed or banished the first day he'd found out, Merlin knew that he wasn't being ruled by anger. And so he was safe. That didn't mean he had to tell the others that, and he got a certain malicious glee in hearing them attack Arthur. _Payback, you prat._

Arthur had originally planned for some regal yet apologetic words when he let Merlin out early the fourth day, but the effect he'd been trying for was more or less ruined by Merlin brandishing a strange bracelet at him. "This is what did it!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I'd say that the cells have rotted your brain," he remarked lightly as he grabbed the keys form the guard and unlocking the cell door, "but that would require you having a brain."

Gwen, who had followed Arthur down to the cells to see her friend released, blanched and recoiled when she saw the bracelet, the guilt of painful memories flitting across her face.

Both men noticed, and Merlin quickly walked up to her and held her wrist reassuringly. "It wasn't your fault, Gwen," he said, holding the bracelet where she could see it. "It was all this – it was Morgana's doing." He looked her in the eye. "It was never your fault."

Upon hearing the story, Arthur was besieged with anger for his treacherous half-sister and guilt for how he treated Gwen and Lancelot. Gwen was able to forgive him, for which he thanked her with a kiss that made Merlin roll his eyes, but there was little he could do to beg Lancelot's forgiveness. Merlin had promised, with grieving eyes, that Lancelot had seemed at peace when Merlin had freed him from Morgana's spell, but that wasn't enough. Arthur felt he owed more to the man he had allowed to be degraded throughout the kingdom, when in reality he had been one of the most noble men he'd ever met.

"Sir Lancelot," Arthur continued, "was a man of honor – an example to us all. He had done great good for the kingdom. He helped defeat Morgana without thought of reward. He sacrificed his life to save mine and hundreds more from the Dorocha. He deserved every rite of dignity bestowed upon his burial place. But Morgana –" Here Arthur struggled to keep from gritting his teeth, "took that peace from him and defamed his honor by using him to disrupt the kingdom. When he was finally freed from his spell, an undeserved ignominy covered his honor, and only a single friend was present to mourn him."

The knights and Gwen turned to look at Merlin, whose face seemed to be convulsed with past memories.

"I cannot take this grief from him," Arthur said, "it is too late for that. But we can take the time to honor his sacrifice and to remember his great virtue and the good man he truly was." Arthur knelt down on the ground and took the unlit candle from his cloak pocket before setting it adrift on the smooth water. In a quiet stream, the rest of the mourners placed the candles upon the water and watched the drift to the center of the lake. Once the last mourner had backed away from the shore to watch his candle join the others, Arthur beckoned Merlin forward.

The crowd watched with some fear but mostly interest as Merlin strode forward. He paused a moment before raising one arm and sweeping it across the lake as his eyes glowed gold. As one, the candles all became lit with blue and silver flames, casting entire lake with a beautiful, ethereal glow. Several children oohed in appreciation before being shushed by their parents.

Arthur unsheathed his sword and held it high. "To Lancelot." The entire crowd repeated as one.

"To Lancelot!"

~.~

Merlin continued to watch the flickering flames long after the crowd had returned to their homes. Even the knights had gone, escorting a tired Gwen, at Arthur's request, back to their bedchamber. He heard a rustle of a cloak beside him but didn't turn from his gaze over the lake to look at Arthur as he sat beside him.

"Why here?" Arthur asked. "I know this place is important to you." Even before he'd known of the magic, he'd stumbled upon the truth about Freya.

"Maybe that's why I chose it,' Merlin smiled somberly, "There wasn't a potter's field that would have him, and I knew he would be safe here." His smile broadened and became a little lovesick. "Besides, Freya could look after him here."

Arthur took a deep breath. "For what it's worth, Merlin, I'm sorry. About Freya, about you having to bury Lancelot alone." The young king folded his hands and rested his chin pensively on them. "Do you think he knows about this?"

Merlin nodded. "I'm sure of it."

"He knows. And he is very grateful to both of you."

Both men looked down to the surface of the lake, where the face and figure of a young beautiful woman lay shimmering in the moonlight. "Freya!" Merlin exclaimed.

Arthur made an effort to back up a little to give the two some semblance of privacy, but he was far too curious about the girl to leave.

"Hello, Merlin," she smiled gently, "It's so good to see you."

"And I you," Merlin whispered almost reverently. "What has brought you here?"

She laughed lightly. "I am always here – you know that. I just came to tell you and Arthur that Lancelot knows of what you have done for him. He's at peace. He is happy." She shook her head. "And of course, blames himself partly for all that happened." She shot a playful glance at Merlin. "Are all men like that, or just the ones that you know?"

Arthur started, and Freya smiled at him. "I mean you too. I bear you no ill will for what happened – you were only defending your home from a monster."

"Freya…" Merlin said affectionately but disapprovingly. "You are not a monster. You are…you." He leaned down and brushed the watery line of her cheek. "You are the woman I love."

Freya smiled. "I know. I love you, too." Her outline became more wavy and she frowned. "I cannot stay much longer. I only wished you both to know what Lancelot had said. And," she looked with a sad smile at Merlin, "to see you again."

"I wish you didn't have to go."

"I'll be back, I promise you, Merlin." She laughed as she faded away. "And I always keep my promises."

Her form disappeared entirely into the light lapping of waves of the lake. And if the lake was disturbed by a few drops of salt water as Merlin leaned over the surface, Arthur didn't say anything.

Merlin sat back, and Arthur put a hand on his shoulder for a few moments before looking out over the lake himself. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

The two friends sat there together into the night and the early hours of the morning, paying tribute to those they had lost.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed - got some much needed bromance into the mix this time. Hooray!

To be honest, it always bothered me that no one ever found that bracelet and discovered Gwen was as guiltless as Lancelot in Morgana's scheme. Do they not clean those cells ever? lol

I'm also curious...given the description of this chapter and the first two paragraphs, was the fact that the funeral was for Lancelot a surprise?

Thanks for reading, and please review! They make me happy, and I like to know what you think!


	13. Magic of Music

Greetings Readers! Here is the next oneshot – I warn you, the next update will probably not come quite so quickly.

This story was born out of two loves of mine – this show and Irish music. It doesn't hurt (or help, depending on how you look at it) that Colin Morgan is Irish, has that lovely accent, and so is easy for me to imagine that he'd been in this sort of situation. The musicians are never explicitly referred to as Irish, but that's the music I had in mind. I do reference a song in this story (the closest I suspect I'll ever get to a songfic) and it's called _Tell Me Ma_, by Gaelic Storm.

Warning: Slight drama but mostly lighthearted good times! I hope. Set between seasons 3 and 4.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters. I also do not own _Tell Me Ma _or any other songs from the band Gaelic Storm.

* * *

The two men standing in the corridor outside the council room looked so different from the inhabitants of Camelot that anyone walking through the hallway would notice them immediately.

Merlin being Merlin, however, nearly crashed into them. In his defense, it would have been hard to see them over the enormous mound of Arthur's armor that he was carrying to the prince's chambers. The armor slipped from his fingers and felt with a resounding crash as he stopped abruptly to keep from running into them.

"Sorry." He said apologetically as he stooped down to pick up the armor.

The elder of the two strangers gave him a warm smile and placed his violin tenderly out of harm's way before bending down to help. "No need to apologize, lad," he said in a slightly trilling accent, "No one was hurt."

The thinner, younger man nodded in agreement and placed his long wooden flute in the pouch hanging around his waist. He brushed his companion to the side and helped Merlin pick up the last of the armor, leaving the other to pick up his violin.

Merlin had tried to take the rest of the armor but they had insisted (the older man did most of the talking, whereas the younger man nodded emphatically) on helping to carry the armor the rest of the way. It was a considerably quicker trip for Merlin than he was used to and it was with a great deal of excitement that he realized that that was his last chore for the day. He looked at the two men who were standing looking around with varying degrees of awe at being inside a royal bedroom. "Are you hungry?"

It turned out to be a very good thing that Gaius had been called away to a nearby village to deal with a virulent strain of flu affecting the village's children – it meant that Merlin had two beds to offer the visitors. After returning from his successful foraging trip to the kitchens (there had not been enough leftovers for three people, he hadn't yet learned how to conjure food from thin air, and there was a certain amount of mischievous joy in sneaking around the often cantankerous cook), all three men sat around the fireplace and tucked in together.

"Thank you, lad," Nathaí, the older of the two, said as he spooned another spoonful of broth into his mouth. "This food's fit for a king."

Merlin grinned shamelessly. "You have no idea." Both men got his hint; Nathaí arched one eyebrow amusedly and the other, Anam, let out a snort of laughter.

Nathaí put down his bowl and reached over to the loaf of bread between them, ripping off a chunk and sighing appreciatively. "Now, I'm not complaining lad," he said as he tore the bread into pieces and passed it to the others, "but why are you doing this?"

Merlin shrugged. "To say thanks for helping me – and because I was curious. Why are you in Camelot?"

Anam swallowed his bite of bread and pulled out the flute from the bag by his waist, holding it out for Merlin to see. Nathaí said, "We're traveling musicians, and thought we might try our luck in the court of Camelot."

"Have you seen the prince?" Merlin asked, leaning forward. "I'm sure I could get you an audience with him."

"That's kind of you, lad," Nathaí said, "but we've seen him already."

"What did he say?" Merlin asked, although he already had an idea of the answer.

Nathaí shook his head. "They already have enough musicians here. They have no need of us."

"I'm sorry," Merlin wasn't surprised. The court already had a selection of classical, if somewhat bland, musicians, and Merlin could hardly see the council deciding to get rid of established musicians to try new ones. Their appearance, while dignified, was somewhat coarse and threadbare, which probably didn't help.

Merlin had faith that Arthur could see past that, but he wouldn't have expected him to advocate for two strangers – not now, at any rate, given all that he had on his plate. The kingdom was still reeling from the ramifications of what Morgana had done, and the king had not left his bedchambers since they'd rescued him from the dungeons. Arthur was now dealing with all the pressures of being the acting regent as well as his duties as a prince. And while he was dealing with the pressure well, he was beginning to run a bit ragged. He wouldn't be clashing with his father's council over as petty a matter as two musicians; not because he was cowed by the council, but because he was trying to make as few changes as possible to his father's way of running things. While his father still had breath in his body, Arthur held hope that he would return to the throne. Arthur did not, would not, see the throne as his yet – he saw such an idea as spitting in his father's face.

"No need for that," Nathaí smiled and shrugged. "That's how things go at times. I have faith that all will work out in the end – it always does."

Merlin set his bowl aside and leaned forward with eagerness. "Could I hear a bit?" Both musicians looked at him and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "If you don't mind."

Anam beamed at him and pulled out his flute while Nathaí picked up his violin with a fluid motion and placed it under his chin. With no preamble besides a passing glance between the two, they launched as one into a merry tune. Merlin's eyes slid shut in appreciation and he leaned back, listening to the joyful, rollicking notes. The tunes brought back memories of sitting around the village square in Ealdor and listening to traveling musicians that passed through the village. The people of Ealdor would always welcome visitors, and the musicians would pay for their bread and shelter by lifting the town's spirit with their music. Merlin had thought the accents of the men seemed familiar, but the music made him sure. He could remember clapping on the side with Will, watching the men and women bound and spin around the dirt square, and the time when some of the older girls took it upon themselves to teach him and the other children how to jig.

Merlin's feet began tapping to the rhythm and even seemed to move into some semblance of a jig, although he seemed oblivious to this as his eyes remained closed and his posture was relaxed except for his merrily moving feet.

The music stopped, and he opened his eyes to see the musicians grinning amusedly at him. "Sure you're not from our neck of the woods, lad. That's pure music you've got in your feet."

Merlin flushed slightly but he grinned. "No, I'm from Ealdor. But a lot of musicians from the north came to our village and played for us sometimes. It was the best kind of music," he mused out loud, folding his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "It could lift our spirits in the darkest, coldest winter and made even the most sour want to get up and dance."

Beaming, the musicians looked at each other. Clearly, this lad was a kindred spirit. But their smiles became more serious as a thoughtful look crossed over Merlin's face. "I wish they had let you play here. Camelot could use some uplifting."

"I noted that." Nathaí nodded. "The prince was very kind but there was a great sadness in his eyes, and the courtyard was considerable quieter than what we'd expected of Camelot. What has happened?"

Merlin swallowed. "The king and prince…lost someone very dear to them recently. The whole kingdom grieves with them." It would have been too much trouble to go into all that had happened with Morgana's betrayal, and his simple summary was all truth. The Morgana they had known, the woman he'd been so taken with when he'd first come to Camelot, was lost to them as soon as she turned her back on her birth father and sought to take Camelot by force. The entire kingdom had suffered from the effects of her hate and greed, and the people of Camelot had lost their daughter as well when she'd betrayed them.

Nathaí's eyes grew solemn and he nodded slowly and sympathetically. "Aye, 'tis a tragic loss, to lose one's kin." Anam nodded, his eyes gleaming with an empathetic sorrow, and he picked up his flute, putting it to his lips. A slow, poignant dirge issued from his instrument.

Nathaí moved forward and put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "I know that pain all too well, lad. The missing never fades away, but the sting will fade in time. Your friend will be fine."

The beautiful music was interrupted by a healthy yawn, and both Merlin and Nathaí turned to face a sheepish-looking Anam, who was blushing as he tried to stifle the yawn. Nathaí grinned. "Maybe it's best if we turned in."

Merlin smiled and got up. "Probably. Got to get up early to help the prat tomorrow." Anam snickered and Nathaí coughed in an effort to cover up his laughter. "Your beds are up here."

He led them up to his bedroom, where he'd managed to magic Gaius' cot beside his bed while the others were busy starting the fire. "They're not much," he cautioned, "but I hope you sleep well anyway."

"They're enough for us, lad, thank ye." Nathaí said.

Merlin smiled. "Well, good night." And then he left.

Nathaí looked over at Aman. "I didn't see another bed in there, did ye?" Aman shook his head.

The two waited until they could no longer hear Merlin moving around in Gaius' chambers, and then carefully peeked into the room. The young man had wrapped himself up in a blanket and was lying in front of the fire, with a bundled jacket underneath his head as a pillow. Nathaí shook his head amusedly. "Should have known. That is a good lad."

"Aye," Anam said quietly.

Nathaí closed the door behind him and the two sat down onto their respective beds. "There ought to be something we could to repay him," Nathaí said as he laid his head on the pillow. "But I don't know what."

Anam looked pensively out the window as he thought. A smile spread across his face and he looked over at the man he saw as his father. "I've an idea."

~.~

"What is the matter with you, Merlin?" Arthur barked from his desk, where he was looking over some pending decrees. Merlin turned from the clothes he had been brushing and grinned.

"Nothing's the matter," He said, "I'm great – I haven't even tripped today."

Arthur smirked. "Exactly." His smirk grew as Merlin scowled at him. It was true – Merlin had not stumbled, tripped, or dropped anything all morning – and that was strange. Merlin, although far from being the worst servant in the five kingdoms despite what Arthur liked to say, was incredibly clumsy, and Arthur was accustomed to one or two crashes before lunchtime. But Merlin hadn't dropped a thing, and there had been a certain lift to his typically already energetic step. It had been almost as though he was dancing about the room. Normally, he would have mocked Merlin for acting like such a _girl_, but he was too steeped in paperwork to spare the time to tease Merlin. Besides, although he'd admit it only to himself, he was glad to see his fr-servant so happy. Merlin hadn't let it show, but he knew the betrayal of Morgana had hit him hard as well as the exhaustion from the following battles. There was something about that goofy, genuine smile that gave Arthur hope for them all.

The acting regent quickly bend back down to his work. Great – now _he_ was the one acting like a girl.

Merlin opened the window to place the slightly damp shirt out on the warm stone so as to dry it more quickly. As he straightened up, he heard the faint strains of music and peered out across the courtyard in search of the sound. He beamed in recognition as he saw the two musicians tucked into a sunny corner near the square. "Arthur, look at this!"

Arthur looked up and took a bored glance out of the window. "Two men playing instruments," he commented disinterestedly.

"That's Anam and Nathaí!" Merlin exclaimed. Arthur didn't bother to ask how Merlin knew them – Merlin seemed to know everybody. "Their music is brilliant! Come on." He grabbed the back of Arthur's chair and dragged it over to the window, the prince giving a manly yelp in response. "You have to listen."

"Some of us have to work, Merlin," Arthur said as he tugged the chair back to the desk and sat down. "We can't go running around like children and wasting time."

"Oh, come on," Merlin said as he obligingly closed the window (although he did leave a gap for music to pass through), "just a few minutes!"

"No."

Merlin scowled a little disappointedly, but turned back to his work. There was an uncharacteristic silence in the chambers for a few minutes, and Arthur looked up from his papers. "Oh, go on Merlin," he allowed, "stop sulking like a dog with its tail between its legs."

"Really?" Merlin perked up.

Arthur waved one hand dismissively. "Only because if I don't, I'll not hear the end of your whining about it for days."

"Thanks!" Merlin beamed and ran out of the room. He didn't look back, although his eyes flashed gold in the deserted corridor and the window in Arthur's chamber swung open more so the music would seep in better.

~.~

Nathaí and Anam had come out to the square after having helped Merlin clear away breakfast earlier that morning. They had packed what they carried with them everywhere and walked out onto the sun-drenched courtyard. Together, the two foreigners watched as the stalls were set up and the villagers began their days, looking for a good clear spot to play their music. It looked as the whole kingdom could use a lift in spirits; there seemed to be a certain dullness in the proceedings of life that surrounded them.

With the care of a sculptor picking the ideal slab of marble to be made into a work of art, the two chose their playing field. They sent each other a smile and picked up their instrument. And then they began to play.

By the time Merlin had made it down to the square, Nathaí and Anam had drawn a small crowd, all of whom were listening but none of whom were dancing. They watched with interest but also with hesitation, a hesitation of interacting with foreigners. That had rarely been a problem before – but after being brought to their knees by two foreign armies, the army of Cenred and the bloodguard of Morgause, they were wary of strangers. Only the children, who were too young to know that kind of fear, tried to dance, jumping up and down and spinning behind the skirts of their protective mothers.

They and Merlin, who nearly skipped into the square, his feet were so light by the sound of the music. Nathaí beamed at him and Aman nodded emphatically, but neither skipped a beat in the music they were playing. Merlin's grin dimmed a little at the fact that no one was dancing, but then lit up as he saw the children jumping up and down and trying to dance. An idea came to him and he walked over to the children, kneeling down by a little girl that he remembered playing pattycake with when he came down with Gaius to tend to her mother. He held out his hands. "Care to dance?"

The little girl giggled and jumped up and down before grabbing one of his hands. After receiving a nod from the girl's mother, who remembered him, he brought her into the middle of the square and began to dance. He told her to stand on his feet and then he began to dance them into a slow jig. The onlookers watched in interest as the notoriously clumsy servant moved fluidly and smoothly through the movements, the mothers even allowing the young ones to come closer and see. Just as the little girl grew confident enough to step off of Merlin's feet and dance on her own, the other children spilled out and began to dance as well, all giggles and laughter and joy.

Merlin continued on in an exuberant jig of his own, looking like some sort of dancing Pied Piper, and noticed the continued wariness of the other people in the square. None of them had ever heard or danced to that music before, and did not have the children's indifference towards potentially looking foolish.

Without skipping a step, Merlin made his way over to a cluster of young women who began giggling and looking away coquettishly as he came closer. Some of them had slight interest in the manservant, but none would show it. Merlin looked past them to see a girl around his age sitting by herself, listening to the music. Hyrne was painfully shy, and the other girls her age tended to neglect her because of her shyness and plainness. He walked over to her chair and held out his hand. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

A pleased giggle left her mouth before she could stop it and her highly amused younger brother prodded her into taking Merlin's hand and standing up. He escorted her into the square with all the courtly air of a knight escorting a noblewoman to a banquet, and after placing his hands gently at her waist and shoulder, began to jig.

Hyrne knew next to nothing of jigging, but it was not hard after a few turns and jumps to join Merlin effortlessly in the dance. Her steps were not as smooth, but they were full of energy and life and the two spun around the square.

By now, more people had come to see what was going on, intrigued by the increasingly loud music and sounds of laughter. The knights had come over as they finished their drills and Gwen came over to investigate, the basket of laundry she was mending pressed against her hip. Even Arthur, although he never would have admitted it, had put down his quill and stood to look outside through the open window.

Gwen watched with a mix of amusement, pride, and awe as she watched Merlin spin Hyrne around the square, both their faces alight with laughter. She had heard Arthur call Merlin a riddle more than once, and she had to agree. Her best friend had a way of constantly surprising people with all the things he could do, and she was impressed to see him move with such grace and confidence. He looked positively handsome as he moved in time with the music, and she noted with some amusement several swooning girls watching him with admiration. _Arthur gets all the girls, indeed,_ she laughed to herself.

With laughter and exuberance filling her face and her brown hair flying out behind her, Hyrne looked almost beautiful as she danced. Nathaí grinned at the change and with a quick glance at Anam, launched into a new song and began to sing:

_I'll tell me Ma, when I go home  
The boys won't leave the girls alone.  
They pulled my hair, they stole my comb,  
But that's all right 'til I go home.  
She is handsome, she is pretty,  
She's the belle of Belfast City.  
She goes a courtin', one, two, three,  
Please won't you tell me who is she?_

Hyrne blushed and Merlin grinned at her. Gwaine yelled over at him. "Who _is_ she, mate? She must be good, to make it look like _you_ can dance."

"Don't laugh, just because _you _can't!" Merlin challenged, laughing, as the two never missed a beat.

"Nonsense!" Gwaine bellowed, and he grabbed a nearby woman's arm and grinned rakishly at her. "Want to dance?"

And of course she did. Legendary Gwaine charm had struck again.

More people spilled onto the square now and began to dance, all stumbling and laughing as they tried to match Merlin's steps but instead settling for an equally exuberant if less complicated jig. Merlin smiled warmly as he and Hyrne slowed to a stop to catch their breaths, feeling proud of her happily flushed face and sparkling eyes. His smile grew even broader as a young man came over and asked her for a dance, the two disappearing into the throng of dancers.

The knights had also joined in, each walking to a young woman and asking them, in a manner much more respectful than Gwaine's, to dance. Lancelot had been especially courtly, escorting the young lad into the dance like a queen, but Merlin had not missed the flinch as he'd walked by Gwen. His friend clearly would have liked to have danced with Gwen, but apparently didn't trust his own feelings enough to touch her in such a potentially intimate way.

Merlin slipped beside Gwen and they both watched the throng of chaotic, exuberant dancers. They both smiled at Percival's careful handling of the smaller lady he was dancing with, at Elyan spinning the girl who sold apples outside the stables, at Leon jigging terribly with one of the maids, and at Gwaine's somewhat lecherous grin at the lady he was dancing with. However, Merlin noticed Gwen look wistfully about for someone who wasn't there. He shot a glance back towards the castle, and grinned at seeing a familiar silhouette in the window.

He turned to Gwen and held out a hand. "Come on!"

She absentmindedly grabbed his hand and then gasped in surprise as he pulled her forward into the square. Merlin spun her around once before grabbing her waist and hand, and then they began to dance.

If watching Merlin dance was awe-inspiring, actually dancing with him was even more so. Wind pulled at their hair and clothes, and Gwen laughed aloud at the feeling of freedom and lightheartedness that filled her entire body. Her eyes and face glowed, and she clapped as Merlin let go of her hands to jig around her before spinning around to meet his proffered hands, her skirts billowing out as she spun.

Merlin, for his part, was glad to see Gwen fully relaxed and happy since Morgana had left Camelot, although he noted with some amusement that she occasionally looked around them to see if a certain someone had made an appearance. He chuckled. "Don't worry, Gwen." She looked up at him and he smirked at her. "I give him two minutes at most."

"What?" Gwen asked.

Merlin felt the light shove on his shoulder. "Right on cue," he continued, smirking, and let go of Gwen's hands to look at the prince over his shoulder. "You move fast, your highness." Arthur could resist most things, but he'd known the prince couldn't stand to let someone else dance with Gwen.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Merlin." He stepped forward and, coughing slightly, held out a hand to Gwen. "May I?"

Gwen could not suppress the giggle or the pleased blush that spread across her nose, and Merlin sighed dramatically. "There goes my dance partner," he grinned as he theatrically bent to kiss Gwen's hand. "Thank you, my lady."

He received a playful swat on the shoulder from Gwen before she took Arthur's hand and pulled him into the dance. Arthur tried hard to ignore Merlin's insufferable, all-knowing grin but he couldn't help smiling back for a moment before Gwen began to move him through the steps of the dance.

Merlin stood at the edge of the crowd, laughing and clapping along with the beat of the music and the pounding of feet. Shooting a glance over to the two musicians, he saw Nathaí and Anam grinning at him. A flow of gratitude filled him as he saw what their music had done and he noted with some amusement that, although they had not set out a plate or cap for payment, there was a heap of bread, fruit, and a few coins at their feet. _Looks like their luck worked out after all,_ he thought to himself. "Thank you," he mouthed and he could tell by Anam's nod that they understood.

Just then, two small hands grabbed his and he was yanked into the fray, nearly falling flat on his face.

Pride filled the two musicians as they watched what their music had helped accomplish – yells and laughter and stomping filled the entire courtyard. They themselves had found this one of the most enlightening performances of their lives – due in large part to the young man who was once in the middle of the crowd. Merlin now had a young boy on his shoulders and was holding a little girl up so that the two children were holding hands and pretending to jig as Merlin moved around the square.

Nathaí shook his head in admiration and let out a bark of laughter. "The lad's got the magic in him!"

For the first time since they'd begun playing, the flute music stopped as Anam burst out laughing. "Aye, that he does."

He returned to the flute, Nathaí plied the bow to the strings, and they played on.

* * *

A/N: I wonder if I should never write friendship/lightheartedness again. I like it, but I'm not sure how it turned out! Ah well.

Thanks for reading and please review! I like knowing what people think, and they make me happy!


	14. Merlin's New Clothes

Greetings Readers! Here is the next oneshot! I hope that you like it.

Thanks so much for all the reviews last chapter! I was so excited, and more friendship shall be forthcoming. (I apologize if I got that song stuck in anyone's head...even though it is brilliant.)

Warning: attempts at bromance, friendship/humor, spoilers for 4x13

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters. *sniff, wipes eyes*

* * *

Merlin's eyes flicked from Arthur's face down to the bundle of cloth in his arms and back again. "You can't be serious."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't know why I bother." He nearly brandished the cloth at Merlin. "Here, take it."

When Merlin had been called away from Gaius' chambers, pulling him away from his caring for the wounded and from sitting at Gaius' bedside to make sure that he had recovered from his imprisonment in the cells, he wasn't sure for what he was being summoned. Surely Arthur knew he was being kept busy in tending to the wounded and Gaius, and so wouldn't be calling him in for something stupid, like cleaning his bedroom or doing his laundry. Arthur could be a prat but he wasn't _that_ much of a prat. Besides, Arthur had been busy stabilizing the kingdom, meeting with the council, and, Merlin suspected, patching things up with Gwen to think up any useless chores.

But at the same time, it couldn't be anything dreadfully important – if it had been, Arthur would have sent one of the knights or even come himself to get him. Instead, one of the more quiet serving goals had been sent to fetch him with a quiet knock and timid summons. Merlin had taken the time, after setting aside the bowl of water and cloth he'd been using to cool Gaius' forehead, to put the young girl at ease as she walked quickly with him to Arthur's chambers. Luckily, the girl only needed a few kind words and one of her wide grins to perk her up – it was her first day at the castle – and she was giggling a little as she left him at Arthur's door.

As Merlin walked through the door, he still hadn't been sure what to expect. He certainly hadn't expected Arthur to reach into his wardrobe and pull out a bundle of cloth, holding it out to Merlin like it was some kind of sacred object. Merlin looked at it for a moment. It was a jacket. A very nice jacket, but still just a jacket.

And given how nice it was, that probably meant it was Arthur's – so clearly Merlin now had something _else_ he'd have to tend to when doing laundry. Great. Arthur had him pulled away from Gaius to clean a new jacket. Someone clearly had his priorities a little skewed, but Merlin would be generous and put it down to stress.

"Nice jacket." Merlin said, "Is it all right if I clean It later, though? I really need to get back to Gaius."

Arthur looked puzzled and looked at the garment closely. "It needs cleaning? It just got here from the seamstresses – it should be clean." He shook his head. "It's not mine, you idiot.'

Merlin cast a perusing glance over the jacket and nodded. "Good – because it'd need some, er, _enhancing_ before you could – ow!"

Arthur tried to look innocent even as he pulled his hand back from throwing the roll at Merlin. "I am not fat – oh, forget it." He held out the garment out again. "It's for you."

"Oh," Merlin blinked, "Why?"

"I talked to Guinevere," Arthur, said, seemingly ignoring Merlin's question, "earlier, and we decided to get married. Again." He added unnecessarily.

Merlin was a bit too tired to jump up and down as he wanted to at this announcement, but a big grin nearly split his face and his eyes gleamed with joy. "That's great, Arthur! When?"

Merlin had somehow known that Arthur would eventually reconcile with Gwen, and they would be happy together. Call it fate, destiny, the fact that their eyes had trouble leaving each other during their time as outlaws; he'd just known it. However, he didn't think that had truly sunk in for the both of them until their eyes had met while grieving with Tristan for Isolde. Only then did they realize – completely – what they could have lost had they never reconciled – if one of them had perished in the fight for Camelot before admitting their continued love.

As for Merlin, it had been hard to watch Isolde die, and impossible to watch Tristan grieving as he held her body without remembering a day that seemed forever ago, when it had been he who had clutched a loved one, begging her not to go. Even being able to see Freya after that had happened could never quite take away the cold dagger that lodged into his heart as he felt her slip away. As the tears welled in his eyes, they were there for three people: Tristan, Isolde, and Freya.

So it didn't come as a surprise that they had both their misgivings and decided to finally get married – but Merlin was still excited, even though he couldn't muster enough energy to literally leap for joy.

"The end of the week," Arthur said, trying to keep the lovesick grin from spreading across his face. He brandished the jacket. "Here, take it."

Merlin smirked at him. "You do know that you're supposed to get wedding presents to _Gwen_, right?"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said. "Just take it – the others in attendance have enough sense to wear their finest, but with you that translates to clothes with the least holes."

"Hey!" Merlin exclaimed, looking somewhat affronted.

"Gwen," Arthur began in the confident, confidential tone of one who knows he's about to deliver the parting blow, "asked for it especially. She wants you to look nice."

That was only partially true. The truth was that Arthur had come to Gwen, asking for advice on what to do for Merlin. Both of them wanted to do something for their friend since he had been with them for the entirety of their relationship and had even been doing his utmost to keep it afloat. And they'd never thanked him.

In addition, Arthur wanted to do something to recognize Merlin for all the work that he had done, and the loyalty he had shown. It hadn't been until Arthur had had to make sure that a servant had a place among the upper knights at his wedding that he realized that Merlin was the only one whose status hadn't changed, whose worth wasn't openly recognized, out of those who came to fight with him against Morgana during both of her takeovers of Camelot. Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival had been knighted, with Leon in charge of them. Gwen was now queen. Arthur was king. Merlin was still the same as he'd always been, Arthur's manservant.

That bothered Arthur.

Merlin had done all these things, but most people never knew just how much he'd done for Camelot. The manservant was widely recognized and more or less respected by the servants in the castle and people in the kingdom, but those who didn't know any better would think he was just another servant. Perhaps a servant who was surprisingly close to the king, but still just a servant. Merlin would never ask for recognition, but it was irritating to Arthur that some members of the council would disregard him, that newcomers to the court would write him off as just another servant. He wasn't. He was Arthur's friend.

Gwen had suggested maybe getting Merlin some new clothing, since he didn't seem to own or want to own much else. She had been thinking about getting him some new neckerchiefs, since she knew some of his favorites were getting a bit ragged, but Arthur went on another tack entirely and had suggested the jacket. Gwen had gone to give the instructions to the seamstresses herself – it wouldn't do to see the king fussing about clothing like a woman – and she seemed to be pleased with his suggestion. "It wouldn't be nearly enough," she said, "but I hope that he likes it."

He had better like it – and wear it. Maybe him wearing finer clothes would make it obvious that Merlin wasn't just another servant. Maybe the image would say what Arthur couldn't say but, in his heart, wanted to – that Merlin was his friend.

Merlin cringed slightly. "Oh, that's just not fair, Arthur," he said as he took the jacket and felt the soft fabric. "Bringing Gwen into this." He rubbed his fingers contemplatively and smiled at the feel of it. "It was a nice thought." He shot his friend a glance. "I won't have to wear it again, though, right?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "God forbid you look presentable for once. No, you don't have to wear it again. Forgive me for wanting everything to look right on my wedding day."

"Good." Merlin smiled. "I'm really happy for you."

"It is all your fault, you know." Merlin's head jerked up and looked at the growing smile on Arthur's face. "All of this – Gwen and I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." It was true. If Merlin hadn't convinced Gwen to let Arthur stay in her home during the tournament where he was pretending to be someone else, they would never have had their first real conversation. If Merlin hadn't kept being so blasted annoying, Arthur would never have admitted his feelings for the beautiful servant. Merlin had talked to both of them, encouraging them both to give their relationship a shot even when things got difficult. He'd fought for Gwen when she was banished, he'd convinced Arthur not to give up on what he and Gwen had together. He'd made sure Gwen was safe until Arthur could bring her home. This really was all his fault.

And if this jacket was the only way Arthur could thank him for it, then Merlin was going to take the blasted thing.

Merlin read between the lines, and he seemed to understand what Arthur was trying to say. "You're welcome, Arthur."

"You know," Arthur mused out loud, "at peasant weddings, they have someone who is a best man stand beside the groom during the ceremony. Royal weddings never have that." He looked at his friend, his smile growing despite himself. "But if they did…"

"Yeah?" Merlin asked.

"Well, it might not be a bad idea for you to have been mine." Arthur said, although his genuine smile got covered up by a hasty scowl when Merlin grinned. "I said it might not be a bad idea – it could have been a total disaster."

"It's the thought that counts." Merlin replied cheekily and shrugged the jacket on. It fit perfectly. "It's great, thanks." He took the jacket off and put it over his shoulder. "Will you be needing anything else? Otherwise I should be getting back to Gaius and the others."

Arthur shook his head. "That's it. How is Gaius doing?"

"He's mending – but he's not as young as he used to be, the old goat," Merlin smiled affectionately, "so he's needed more time to recover. But he should be up and ready to go for the big day."

"Good." Arthur hit his manservant manfully on the back, which nearly caused him to stumble. Merlin shot him a half-hearted glare as he left the room, rubbing his shoulder ruefully. Arthur's snort of laughter followed him out into the corridor.

~.~

Everything on the wedding day went perfectly. Arthur looked proud, Gwen looked beautiful, and there seemed to be genuine happiness in people's faces as they cried out best wishes for their new queen. Both king and queen noticed the exuberant look on their best friend's face as he stood next to Gaius and watched them take their first steps as man and wife down the throne steps.

Merlin encompassed the queen in a bear hug, ignoring court protocol as he usually did when it didn't suit him, and then primly kissed her hand in imitation of all the pompous courtiers that were making their way down the greeting line. Gwen laughed out loud and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Merlin."

Cheeks flushing red, Merlin rubbed the back of his neck as he walked over to Arthur. It looked for a moment that Arthur was merely going to clasp his arm, but instead Arthur hauled into a hug. Merlin sputtered in confusion for a moment before hugging him back. "Congratulations, Arthur," Merlin said, "You're a lucky man. And if you ever hurt Gwen," he pulled back and gave his head a mock-stern look, "do realize that you will have me and Elyan coming after you."

Arthur cuffed him. "Oh, what are you going to do?"

"You'd be surprised." And Merlin disappeared into the crowd so that Arthur could continue receiving the congratulations from the rest of the wedding guests. Merlin seemed to be attracting a lot of attention, much to Gwen and Arthur's amusement, from several girls who were coming over to admire his coat, but clearly were just taking the opportunity to stroke his arms and admire _him_.

"Still want to change, Merlin?" Arthur asked as they walked past a flushed Merlin on the way to the banquet.

"Erm, yes." Merlin said, "But…a few more hours couldn't hurt…"

* * *

A/N: D'aww, Merlin likes getting some attention from the girls - he's kind of oblivious, the way I write him.

It's funny, but when Merlin says "You can't be serious," I can totally hear his voice saying it. I think he said it in the show once, because I don't know it was sound so clear otherwise.

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy and I like to know what you all think!


	15. An Interesting Use for a Scarf

Greetings Readers! This is one of the (probably) few drabbles that you will read on here. I tend to go on too long to write many of them. I got the prompt from an excellent Merlin website called The Heart of Camelot.

I hope you like it!

Warnings: Friendship/Humor, Young Merlin moment at beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

Ever since he was young, Merlin had loved climbing trees.

Hunith liked to tease him and blame the fact that she named him for a bird for his love of being high in trees. She occasionally suspected he'd used a spot of magic to literally fly up there, but she'd never caught him at it. A childhood of climbing them made him one of the fastest tree-scalers the kingdoms had ever known.

Which one would have supposed Arthur would have been grateful for, given the circumstances.

Of course, he wasn't.

"Merlin, would you hurry?"

Merlin only just managed to keep from bursting into laughter as he climbed up the tree, trying to get to where the prince was attempting, and failing, to look regal and dignified while dangling helplessly at the end of one of the branches. At the very end of the branches, a bright red shawl which was the cause for the whole fiasco was caught and blowing slightly in the breeze.

Of course, even though he was denying to everyone that prodded him about it (Merlin), Arthur could not resist any opportunity to show off his chivalry to Gwen. So when the shawl she'd been mending for Morgana had blown up and into a tree, he had stopped her from climbing up and offered to get it himself. This would have gone smoothly if not for two unforeseen factors.

The first was the armor that somehow got snagged onto the branches.

The second was the loud tearing noise that occurred when Arthur tried to pull himself free.

What made the whole thing worse was that Gwen wouldn't leave the bottom of the tree, being afraid that Arthur had somehow hurt himself. Merlin, having used magic to see up through the branches, knew better and was convulsing with silent laughter as he climbed up the tree.

"You're the one just hanging around, sire." Merlin snorted as he made his way up the tree.

Since he had to help Arthur with his armor everyday, Merlin quickly made short work of the problem…except for one glaring omission.

Arthur glared. "If it's not too much to ask of that small brain of yours, would you get me out of here?"

Merlin untied his neckerchief and held it out, smirking. Arthur rolled his eyes and groaned.

"You can't be serious."

Merlin was the first down out of the tree, Arthur following him closely for cover. Gwen peered out anxiously, trying to see if Arthur was all right as he handed her the shawl and stomped away.

It wasn't until he was walking away and she had to bit her lip hard to keep from laughing at the bright red patch of Merlin's handkerchief covering the torn hole of his trousers.

* * *

A/N: I have no shame. LOL.

Should I lengthen this, or is it good as is? Please let me know.

Thanks for reading, and please review! They make me happy!


	16. Spilled Secrets

Greetings Readers! First, I'd like to say THANK YOU SO MUCH to all those who reviewed - this story now has over 100 reviews! I can't believe it! *happy dances* I hope you like this update!

Warning: Spoilers for 4x13

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

"How could you, Gwen?" Merlin asked, panting, as his hair fell down onto his sweat-slicked forehead and into his eyes. "How could you tell him? You promised!"

Gwen looked up to where her best friend was standing after slamming open the door, rushing inside the room and closing it behind him. His chest was heaving with exertion, and there was a look of disbelief and betrayal in his eyes that made her wince. She got up from the table and walked toward him.

"I am so sorry, Merlin," she said as she came closer, "But I couldn't keep it a secret from him. He's my husband." She cringed at the incredulous look on her friend's face; she hadn't meant to tell, it had just slipped out without her wishes.

"Couldn't…" Merlin's mouth fell open, and he looked remarkably like a goldfish. "Even if telling him would cost me my LIFE?"

Gwen shook her head. "He would never do that, Merlin. He wouldn't kill you!"

"Wouldn't he?" Merlin's eyes only grew in desperation. "You know what he's like – he's not going to just let this go."

"Merlin," Gwen said soothingly, grabbing both of his arms and trying to calm him down. "You're his best friend, even though he doesn't say it enough -"

"Or ever." Merlin added, wryly, even as his eyes darted from side to side nervously.

She fought to keep from smiling at the tone, and failed. "Yes, well."

The entire corridor seemed to shake with an almighty yell. "MERLIN, GET BACK HERE!"

Merlin blanched. "He's going to find me!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Gwen soothed, "How would he know you were in-"

The door flung open and Merlin nearly toppled over backwards, almost taking Gwen with him. Arthur stared down his manservant and scowled. "There you are." He growled.

Merlin attempted to hide behind Gwen, an action doomed to failure since he was much taller than his friend and Arthur had already seen him. Stepping forward, Gwen tried to calm down her nearly steaming husband. "Arthur, it's not that bad."

"Isn't it?"

In a moment of sheer stupidity, Merlin had assumed that Arthur was distracted enough by Gwen for him to make his getaway. He hadn't accounted for the keen focus tempered from years of hunting and battling, and Arthur tore after him, only just missing the slimmer man because he'd stumbled over one of Gwen's shoes. That she was wearing on her feet.

"Get back here, you traitor!" Arthur yelled as he bolted out of the room.

Gwen sprinted after him. "Arthur, stop!" She yelled in a manner entirely unbefitting to a queen. "It's not what you think!"

"It's exactly what I think!" Arthur's reply echoed through the hall.

"I kissed HIM!" Gwen yelled as she too took up the chase. "And it was six years ago! We didn't even _talk_ to each other back then!"

Apparently she yelled louder than she had thought, because as she sprinted after the two men, Gwaine's highly amused voice could also be heard. "She kissed _you_? Good on you, mate!"

"Not helping, Gwaine!" Merlin yelled. He glanced back to see that his friend, now bearing an almost feral grin, was finally beginning to gain on him.

The two guards stationed outside the royal bedchamber looked at each other for a moment, and then shrugged. They were beginning to get used to it.

* * *

A/N: So who saw that coming? lol

Thanks for reading and please review! I like to know what you think, and they make me happy!

*continues happy dancing*


	17. Answers

Greetings Readers! Here's a new oneshot, I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: slight AU for 3x10, spoilers for 3x10 and 4x06

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

Very Special Thanks to: Ryne and Heatherllly from The Heart of Camelot website for beta-reading this!

* * *

Morgana couldn't sleep. But for the first time in years, it had nothing to do with nightmares.

Every time she tried to close her eyes and let sleep claim her, she saw the face of that mysterious old sorcerer as he stood in the council room, talking so calmly and so thoroughly ruining her plans to remove that which stood between her and the throne.

She had had no visions, no portentions, nothing – and if there had been a sorcerer about, surely she would have sensed it. Perhaps the sorcerer was just a glorified magician with such little power that she couldn't find it. But, that left so many questions still.

If he had an ounce of self-preservation, which he must have since he had lived to such an old age, he would have known enough not to come to such a wretched place. And to walk into the palace itself like a lamb to the slaughter!

Arthur and Gwen had not been enchanted – she knew that better than anyone. So why would this strange man come in and claim that he had cast a spell upon them? How could he possibly know that her accusation wasn't true?

The questions collided and ricocheted off the walls of her mind until she could no longer ignore the relentless cacophony. She rose from the bed and shrugged on her thick night robe, nearly forgetting to close it around herself in her haste as she left the room.

Luckily, her replacement maidservant had gone home long ago, and all the guards (although they were less than useless anyway) were patrolling another corridor. She could have talked her way past the guards with relative ease and slight seduction, but she wanted all her focus to be on the old sorcerer in the dungeons below.

As her footfalls began to echo throughout the cavernous stone dungeon, the one inhabitant of the cells looked up almost expectantly. Upon seeing her, however, his head sunk down and she thought she saw disappointment glinting in his eyes.

"Lady Morgana," he said coolly, and for some reason that made her flinch.

"How do you know my name?" She asked.

The old man seemed to falter slightly, but it must have been a trick of the light, because he answered her question without hesitation.

"Everyone knows who you are, my lady," he said slyly, as he raised an eyebrow at her in a gesture that was somehow uncannily familiar. "Or at least who you pretend to be."

Morgana took a step backwards, tilting her head slightly to better observe this strange old man. "I…don't understand you."

"Nor I you, young woman," the man said seriously, his blue eyes seeming to pierce her soul. "And I am grateful for that fact."

Morgana's eyes shot fire. "What do you mean?"

"How could you do this to them?" the older man asked in reply. "These two are your _friends_, my lady. The whole kingdom knows of your friendship, how selflessly you defend and look out for one another-" he shook his head in bewilderment, and continued sadly, "I do not understand how you have come to mean them harm. They have done nothing to you."

For a moment, Morgana thought she heard some slight emphasis on the word "they", but she was sure she was mistaken. She strode closer, although the older man didn't flinch at the rush of movement like she had hoped. "Who are you to judge me?" she whispered angrily, "You don't know what I've been through." The old man's eyes grew sad and he seemed to be on the edge of saying something, but Morgana cut him off. "And are you entirely innocent?" she said, "Have you been so sainted that you have never caused any pain?"

The old man shook his head. "I have caused my fair share of pain, young woman, I cannot claim innocence in that." He looked her straight in the eyes. "However, I do not relish the fact – it causes me more pain that you can possibly know. And therefore I cannot understand why your cruelty to your friends is pleasing to you."

"And why do you care?" Morgana hissed. "What have they ever done for you? Your life is on the line to help a man who would see you dead…who _will_ see you dead tomorrow."

"Done for me?" The old man sighed. "That is not how it works, Mo-my lady. They owe me nothing. But," he said softly, with a pitying look, "I wouldn't expect you to understand. You have no sense of duty, no sense of loyalty."

Morgana's eyes narrowed. "I understand loyalty perfectly well, old man. I, however, am not foolish enough to give it to someone who will only get me killed with it!" And with that parting shot, she turned away from the prisoner and swept elegantly out of the dungeon, her cloak fanning out behind her like the train of a queen's gown.

However, she couldn't quite help feeling that the old man had been more victorious in the encounter than she had.

~.~

Dripping wet and chained with his arms above his head, Merlin showed no sign of fear or of cowardice, which would have been infinitely more satisfying than the defiant glare he was giving her now. Once again, she was shocked by the incredible loyalty he bore towards Arthur – she might have been impressed had his allegiance not been so misplaced.

Unable to help her curiosity, she asked him the one thing she was certain would never make any sense to her. Couldn't he see that there was no advantage for him in their arrangement? All he was, and all he'd ever be in Arthur's eyes, was a simpleminded servant, and no amount of loyalty would ever prove otherwise.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Morgana," Merlin replied steadfastly, and she thought she could hear a note of sadness in his voice - though it might have been pain, because even as he spoke he twisted in the chains and winced. "You have no sense of duty, no sense of loyalty."

Perhaps if Morgana hadn't been so bent on Arthur's destruction, she might have allowed her subconscious to tell her that she'd heard such words before. And that, if she put the words together, she'd have an answer to all of her questions.

Instead, she plotted away in ignorance, unaware that her destiny and her doom was the simple servant boy she now held helpless in her clutches.

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked it! I always thought it was weird that Morgana wasn't more curious about a sorcerer just showing up and claiming to do what she'd done. She just looked puzzled more than anything!

Again, thanks to Ryne and Heatherllly from The Heart of Camelot .com. If you're interested, come and give it a try - it's a Merlin fansite with fanfiction, forums, and other such goodies.

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	18. What Might Have Been

Greetings Readers! Here is my next update! It's actually two drabbles I wrote for a challenge on TheHeartofCamelot - the prompt was to choose a big decision that a character had made and make them take a different path.

Warning: Mood whiplash, A LOT OF IT. The first is light-hearted, the second one features Dark!Merlin, which I try to avoid if possible. LOL

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

**What Might Have Been I:**

"I have other crimes I wish to confess." The old sorcerer snorted slightly in amusement.

Arthur felt the urge to simply scoff – no matter what crimes the man had committed, his fate would not change. But there was something in those somehow familiar blue eyes that made him nod instead. "Very well. Guards," he said, turning to the men, "leave us."

The guards looked wary, but a glance from the prince made them quickly leave. Arthur turned to Dragoon, who looked as surprised as they that he was getting the opportunity. "What other crimes?"

The sorcerer opened his mouth and then closed it, looking lost for words.

"There aren't any, are there?" Arthur couldn't believe he was idly conversing with a sorcerer, but the words just came out. "You didn't even commit this one – I know I wasn't enchanted." He took a step forward. "So why would you say you enchanted us?"

The old man took a deep breath. "It was the only way."

"Only way to what?"

"The only way to save Gw-the young woman." The old man replied. "She is an innocent, and I could not see her suffer."

"Why?" Arthur asked, dumbfounded. This was challenging all he knew about sorcerers.

"Because," the old man smiled, "she is your destiny, Arthur. She will help make you into the king you are destined to be." He stood up straight and looked the prince in the eyes. "Far from bringing shame here, she and you will bring a light into this kingdom the likes of which have never been seen."

"And…" Arthur's mind was reeling, "you would put your own life on the line for that."

A genuine smile crossed the man's face. "Always."

Arthur nodded numbly. And then he came to a decision.

The guards heard a loud thud and ran to find the prince on the floor and the warlock gone. They were so preoccupied they didn't notice the lack of injury on the prince.

Or the smile that was crossing his face.

~.~

**What Might Have Been II:**

Merlin stayed until the last of the fire hissed into steam as it hit the water of the lake, watching the embers burn into nothingness. Then he closed his eyes, waiting for the numbness of grief and acceptance to overtake him, knowing that Freya was finally at peace.

It didn't happen.

Instead, it was as though the fires burning her body now entered his very soul, searing him and enflaming his mind and magic. His fists clenched. It wasn't fair.

How much more was he supposed to sacrifice? Why couldn't he ever be happy?

He was sick of being destiny's puppet, his life being toyed with like some divine game.

He had nearly lost his mother, Gaius, his own life. He had lost his home, his best friend, his innocence. His hands had spilled blood, and he could never clean away the stain. But destiny wasn't content with that.

It had taken Freya from him.

He knew what destiny wanted: to go back to Camelot, to privately forgive Arthur, and go on being a puppet. And he might have done that once. But not any more.

Merlin refused to play servant to the one who killed his love, and help him to be the king destiny said he would be. He was leaving – and he was not leaving quietly.

The magic began to coil around him, animalistic, unbridled, terrible.

The trees ripped about in the torrent of wind and fire that thundered and circled Merlin like a deadly halo.

Merlin had never felt such anger, such power. And now, he didn't care. All that mattered was his revenge.

He turned towards Camelot, missing in his rage the desperate waves lapping onto his feet, begging him to stop.

He walked towards Camelot, his eyes blazing gold. And he never looked back.

* * *

A/N: Your head wheeling from the mood whiplash? Sorry.

Thanks for reading, and please review! They make me happy!


	19. Blood and Tears

Greetings Readers! A new chapter, and here's some more angst.

To those who wanted me to continue the Dark!Merlin from last chapter/oneshot/blank, it will probably be happening. I'm brainstorming.

This was actually written for the lovely Ryne42 - she writes me some awesome Merlin/Gwen friendship, and I give her this in return. Ha!

Warning: Angst, character death (blame my depressed muse), K+

Disclaimer: I still don't own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

Pieces of the courtyard wall were scattered about the castle, hazy in a mist of soot and dirt and blood, and Gwen peered desperately around for the two men she loved best in the world, the only two who had not come back after the aftermath of battle.

She saw the two figures, one prone on the ground, the other hunched over and shuddering beside him. Ignoring the blood and wreckage staining the hem of her dress, she sprinted over to them, the knights close behind.

The sight broke her heart. "Merlin!"

The figure on the ground looked blearily at her. "Hey," he said shakily.

Arthur looked up then, his eyes wet and desperate. Gwen began to cry.

"Hey," Merlin said, smiling comfortingly, attempting to wave away her fears with the splintered bloody remains of his arm. "It's okay, don't you see that's Arthur's all right?"

Gwen fell to her knees, heedless of the blood seeping in a pool around Merlin that soaked into her gown. "But you – oh Merlin…" she tried to reach down to grab his hand, just to do something, but couldn't find anything resembling a hand in the bleeding tangle of tendon and bone. Instead she grabbed his shoulder. "Merlin, please…" she whispered, "don't leave us."

"Gwen," he smiled, the blood bubbling from his mouth dampening the attempt considerably. "It's all right – the threat's gone and Arthur's okay. My work is do-"

"Don't you dare, you idiot," Arthur barked, "don't you dare leave us. Heal yourself!"

Merlin looked regretful. "Arthur, I can't-"

"This is no time to be modest, Merlin!" Arthur nearly yelled. "What good is your magic if you don't use it?"

The warlock attempted to shrug, but only began coughing, and more blood bubbled forth. "Was always…rubbish…at healing spells."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur said, his voice a mere whisper. "You've healed all of us before!"

"Well, that's you all, isn't it?" Merlin coughed. "Never much of a point in learning to heal myself, was there?"

"Come on, mate," Gwaine choked from behind Gwen, "do it. Please."

"Sorry." Merlin looked sad. "I can't. You all will be fine without me."

Gwen broke down sobbing and Arthur could no longer maintain his wet glare. "Don't die, Merlin. That's an order."

Merlin grinned. "I never was good at taking orders."

And with that he closed his eyes and he was gone.

* * *

A/N: I killed him! *wails* What is wrong with me?

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy.


	20. Ryne42's Oneshot

Greetings Readers! Here is the next oneshot: believe it or not, this one ISN'T angsty! *gasp* I apologize for my previously depressed muse, LOL

Ryne42 and I decided to write oneshots for each other about whatever the other wanted. Ryne wanted a story with some Hunith and Merlin relationship goodness (as well as something else that I can't say or it'd give it away). I hope mine is halfway as good as hers – it's called "I get knocked down," and it is brilliant. (You should check out her stories – she's excellent!)

Warning: Post-season 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any its characters.

* * *

In Hunith's mind, there were five cardinal directions: north, south, east, west, and Camelot.

It seemed ages since she had watched Merlin walk out of Ealdor towards the neighboring kingdom, with only his traveling pack slung on his back. Soon afterwards, her heart and mind knew that direction acutely, as though it had been branded into her very being. She had quickly fallen into a routine of looking towards the kingdom at least three times a day.

When she woke up and had a few moments of peaceful laziness before beginning the work of the day, she would look over and wonder if Merlin had slept well. As she sat down for the noontime meal, she would look towards Camelot before saying the blessing and wonder if he was getting enough to eat. He had always been so painfully thin and she hoped that Gaius had become a better cook since the last time she'd seen him. And as she blew out the candle at night before going to bed, she looked over to Camelot and let good wishes waft over to her son with the extinguished candle smoke. She prayed that he would be safe and happy, and that he would think of her too at times.

Of course, she didn't restrict her time of glancing towards Camelot to those three times only. Whenever she thought of Merlin, her eyes naturally swiveled in that direction, regardless of where she was. Sometimes she even wondered if she might actually look just in time to see him coming over the hill to pay her a visit. Hunith knew better than to genuinely expect him to be coming – he was kept so busy in Camelot that she was grateful for the monthly letters he managed to get back to Ealdor – but that didn't keep her heart from hoping.

So it was with almost as much surprise as excitement that she gasped when she looked towards Camelot to see a group of men riding towards the village. The distant clopping of horses' hooves made everyone in the village look towards the sound, and the children dropped the sticks they were playing with and ran to their parents. Hunith took a deep breath and leaned against the side of her hut, wiping the sweat off her brow as she peered out towards the approaching horses.

The gait of the horses was too slow to be threatening or intimidating, and as she looked closer she could see the bright red and golden dragons of the Pendragon crest. Her heart swelled with joy and she began to look even closer at the huddle of men, trying to see past the glint of all the chainmail for a glimpse of her son.

But as they got closer, her face fell into a confused frown. There were five men riding towards her, all of whom seemed to be wearing chainmail. Nowhere did she see the familiar shock of unruly black hair or those blue eyes that glinted with good humor and mischief. Hunith leaned more heavily against the hut wall than she had moments before and her heart began to race. Why would they come if Merlin wasn't among them?

She put it down to nerves and tried to force herself to remain calm as the horses drew closer. She recognized the young, handsome face of the king who had come to defend Ealdor for her son, but still could not see Merlin. Children ran forward and gathered around the horses, now that their parents recognized the visitors as being from Camelot, and Hunith followed slowly with almost shaky steps.

Her eyes widened in surprise and her breath caught in her throat as she looked about the gleaming chainmail one more time in search of the old brown jacket and brightly colored neckerchief, but saw none. Her anxiety was not at all helped by the somber look on the young king's face as he dismounted, and she gripped her apron tightly between her fingers.

Despite living out in the country all of her life, Hunith was well aware of how to greet and behave around those of higher birth.  
However, no protocol or etiquette could withstand a mother's love and concern for her child and instead of the customary greeting, she asked, "Where is Merlin? Is he all right?"

Arthur looked momentarily taken aback at the urgency of the question but soon recovered, giving the worried woman a small but genuine smile. "He's perfectly fine, Hunith. He's just not here because I didn't tell him we were coming."

One of the knights, who had a certain roguish tilt to his smile that was making several of the nearby adolescent girls giggle appreciatively, dismounted and gave a bark of laughter. "That, and Queenie here doubled his chores to keep him from finding out about it."

Arthur somehow managed to look irritated (at the knight) and apologetic (at Hunith) at the same time, but Hunith simply chuckled, her eyes twinkling remarkably like her son's. "You must be Sir Gwaine."

Gwaine swept into an elegant bow. "At your service, milady," he grinned, before stepping forward to kiss her hand. Hunith only just managed to keep from giggling like a young girl – this friend of Merlin's was a character.

"What does bring you here?" she asked, switching back to the expected etiquette easily now that she was assured of her son's well-being, "Would you care for something to eat? Do your horses need care?"

The king looked around at his men before turning to face Hunith again. "The horses do need tending to, but then we should be heading back."

"Got a lot to do before tomorrow!" Gwaine barked with laughter, only to get punched in the shoulder by the tallest of the knights, whose muscles rippling from the action made the previously affected girls squeal and giggle more.

"Don't ruin it," the knight admonished in a deep tone.

"Me?" Gwaine looked affronted, "My lips are sealed."

"That'll be the day," the oldest knight remarked drily as he dismounted and took his horse's reins, while the rest of the men burst into roars of laughter.

"Why am I always the butt?" Gwaine muttered.

"Can't think," the final knight, who looked very much like Merlin's friend Gwen, remarked as he joined his friends on the ground.

Hunith smiled. It was nice to meet all the friends Merlin mentioned in his letters. "If you would follow me," she began, gesturing with her hand to the other side of the village, "I can show you where to tend to the horses."

The men began following her as one unit, although she could hear Gwaine grumbling loudly and the two she guessed to be Percival and Elyan laughing at him. Arthur fell into step beside her and she looked up at him. "So why are you here, sire?" she asked.

"Oh, I thought we'd said…" Arthur trailed off, looking sheepish and much more like a young man rather than a king. "We're here to bring you to Camelot."

"Why, your highness?"

Arthur looked a little sheepish again, so Leon stepped in to explain. "It's a surprise for Merlin, my lady, since we know he doesn't see you as much as he'd like."

Arthur looked more grateful than Hunith had expected, but then she knew that the young man didn't express his emotions easily. So she just assumed that the young man was grateful for the knight taking the emotional delivery for him.

Later on, she would discover she was only partially right.

Once all the horses were fed and watered, Camelot's king and finest knights led their mounts back into the village square to wait for Hunith to get her horse. There they found a problem.

The one horse that the villagers used for travel had been taken out by the village's resident lovebirds early that morning. The two were not expected back until late that evening…at best. So that left Hunith with no horse to ride to Camelot. Knightly chivalry hit all the men at the same time, and suddenly all of these considerably attractive men were competing to have her ride with them. Hunith had to work hard on suppressing her laughter upon seeing the openly jealous looks on the younger women's faces as the knights essentially fought over her.

Eventually, Arthur put his foot down, playing the "I'm your king and my word is final" card before leading her to his horse and helping her before climbing on himself.

The ride back to Camelot was uneventful. The knights poked fun and jabbered at each other and Hunith, who was completely focused on the excitement of seeing her son again, simply listened and smiled. Eventually, she turned around to look at Arthur. "Thank you, your highness. It will be so good to see Merlin again – without any disaster happening."

Arthur smiled at her almost shyly. "Yes. I'm sorry he hasn't been able to come back more – he's been kept quite busy."

Hunith shook her head reassuringly. "That's all right. His life is in Camelot now, I understand that he can't often drop everything and visit. "She frowned thoughtfully, her eyebrows knitting in thought, "Why are you bringing me now? He's worked for you for years and you never thought of this before."

"Don't tell your son this," Arthur's voice lowered conspiratorially, "but I want to thank him for all he's done for Camelot – and for me. Everyone else who has stuck with me has been knighted or honored in some way, but not Merlin. And he doesn't really want any glory or recognition…"

Hunith smiled secretly to herself. While it was true that her Merlin had become more humble as he'd gotten older, she knew that he would have loved a little recognition, at least of who he really was. But even with Arthur as king instead of his father, it appeared he wouldn't be getting any of that any time soon.

"So this seemed the best way to thank him," Arthur finished, "you can stay as long as you like."

"Thank you," Hunith smiled at her son's best friend before shifting into a more comfortable position on the horse and training her eyes on the turrets of Camelot that were slowly emerging above the treetops. Her breath caught at the sheer beauty of the stone turrets against the bright blue sky, but also at the excitement at knowing she would see Merlin soon.

~.~

By the time that Hunith had been escorted to the court physician's chambers, Gaius and the queen were there waiting for her.

Gwen looked well, Hunith thought to herself as she looked at the young woman, who looked much more carefree and happy than she had the last time she was in Ealdor. But then, the young woman had been banished, her wedding broken up, and been transformed into a deep before being shot with an arrow. It would hardly to be expected that the young woman would have been in the best of spirits. The queen looked regal and beautiful, but the excited gleam of recognition in her eyes and the enthusiastic hug that she gave Hunith were all the young girl who had come to Ealdor all those years ago.

Hunith smiled and hugged Gwen back. "It's good to see you, your highness."

"Gwen," the young queen asserted, beaming, as she stepped back from the embrace, "no need to call me anything else – not after you put up with me for so long."

"Nonsense," Hunith said, putting her hands on the younger woman's shoulders, "it was a pleasure having you, given the circumstances." It had been nice having someone to share her home with again, and to have someone who had stories to share about Merlin had been wonderful. Hunith turned to Gaius. "It's good to see you – are you well?"

Gaius walked over to her, his gait a bit more hobbling than she'd remembered, and embraced her before warmly kissing her on the cheek. "Better than I've been in a long time."

"Really?" Hunith quirked an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

Gaius had just opened his mouth to answer when the door banged unceremoniously open and Merlin rushed in, closely flanked by Arthur and the knights. Slightly out of breath and his hair flopping onto his forehead, Merlin looked around quickly before his eyes found his mother. "Mother?"

Hunith smiled through the sudden tears in her eyes. "Hello, Merlin."

Merlin closed the gap rapidly between them and wrapped his mother in a tight hug. "I've missed you."

"And I you, Merlin," Hunith hugged him as tightly as she could, the feeling of her son in her arms soothing and warm.

Merlin stiffened suddenly and pulled back from the embrace, and looked down at her seriously. "Are you all right? Has anything happened?" A fire began burning just behind his eyes. "If anyone has harmed you…"

"Merlin," Hunith said calmly, putting both her hands on his face. "I'm perfectly all right. Arthur just brought me here for a visit." And possibly for whatever big thing Gwaine was thinking was happening the following day, but for some reason she decided not to bring it up.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Merlin asked in shock as he looked back at Arthur who was smirking slightly as he stood beside Gwen.

Gwen smiled broadly. "It was a surprise!"

"I should hardly think," Arthur said, crossing his arms, "that you have any right to be mad at me for keeping things secret, Merlin."

Merlin gave a snort of laughter, but Hunith's eyes widened as the implication of the statement hit her. She pulled back from her son to gave him a searching look that grew increasingly nervous as he began to squirm slightly under her gaze. "Merlin," she whispered, "you didn't."

Her son took in a deep breath. "Mother, he knows."

Logic would have dictated that everything was fine, since they were all standing calmly in the room without cries for fire and execution, but logic had nothing on the force of her maternal instinct. Hunith grabbed Merlin's shirt sleeve and pushed herself slightly in front of him, shielding her son with her body. It did little to protect him, as he towered over her, but the look in her eyes was fierce.

"He's not going to do anything, Mother," Merlin assured her, "it's all right."

"How could you tell him, Merlin?" she said, agonized, "that was the one thing that you should not do above anything."

"Well, he didn't tell us exactly," Gwen began nervously, fiddling with the fringe on her sleeve, "he saved Arthur's life."

"Again," Merlin muttered under his breath and Hunith had to fight to keep from laughing. Gwaine didn't even bother trying and he roared with laughter.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "With magic. In front of everyone."

"How else was I supposed to do it?" Merlin groused, "When you get hit with an enchanted sword, there's not much else I can do besides take it out as soon as possible. That and get the enchantment and bleeding stopped." He made a low bow. "Forgive me for not allowing you to die, sire."

The king waved his hand around. "But was giving yourself the wound really the best idea?"

Merlin crossed his arms. "Well, my body can take magical attacks better than yours can, it seemed the best – MOTHER!"

Hunith had spun around and yanked up his tunic with absolutely no warning and was now examining his ribcage for wounds. Merlin flushed a bright red, trying to push away his mother's inquisitive hands while attempting to fix his shirt. He was distinctly unsuccessful until she finally located the healing wound which was already glowing a faint pink as a scar began to form. "Thank God for that," she breathed, and then frowned again. "Have you been eating at ALL, Merlin?" she scolded, prodding the prominent bones of his ribcage.

"Mother!" Merlin yanked down his shirt, looking ruefully at his friends. Gwen looked apologetic; but the others in the room looked highly amused, and Arthur and Gwaine looked positively gleeful.  
He would not be hearing the end of this for a long time.

~.~

The next day, Hunith turned toward the mirror in the bedroom and smoothed down her hair fretfully as she glanced at her appearance. She wished that the king had mentioned a banquet that he wanted her to attend before they had left Ealdor; she might have been able to pack something far more suitable than what she wore on the trip.

Gwen had quickly taken her into hand – taking her to the royal seamstress and finding some clothes that were elegant but simple enough for Hunith to feel comfortable wearing them. But even in the beautiful dress, Hunith felt nervous about her first exposure to courtly life, and her hands sprang up to her hair once more.

Merlin's friend laughed lightly behind her and put her hands gently away from the hair before picking up a brush and beginning to brush Hunith's hair for her.

Of course, she attempted to tell the queen to stop treating a commoner like someone of a higher station but Gwen shook her head, grinning. "I don't mind it," she replied, "and I know more about caring for hair in the courtly fashion than I would ever care to know. I've had plenty of practice." A shadow passed over  
Gwen's face for a moment and then it was gone. She continued to brush with firm, steady strokes. "Merlin told us everything," she began, "that he was born with magic and that you sent him to Camelot so Gaius could teach him?" Hunith nodded. "That must have been so scary," Gwen said curiously, "to have all that power and have to hide it."

"'Twas," Hunith answered, nodding, "and especially when he was so small. He couldn't understand why he had to hide – and then when he got older and understood it was almost worse. He thought he was a monster."

The cracking in her voice was enough for the younger woman to put down the brush and hug her across the shoulders. Hunith's shoulders shuddered, although it was difficult to tell whether it was from sadness or relief that her son was safe now, even with his magic revealed. Gwen squeezed the older woman's shoulders. "But he's not. He's a hero. He's our friend." She cleared her voice nervously. "Hunith?"

"Yes?"

Gwen sat down on a chair near where Hunith was sitting and faced her. "Merlin…told us about his father." Hunith winced at the familiar stab of pain in her heart at the mention of Balinor, but continued to listen. "When I was staying in Ealdor after I'd been…before Arthur and the others came, when you talked about how a broken heart takes time to mend…" she looked up into Hunith's face, "were you talking about you, too?"

Hunith didn't answer straight away, but the strong emotion in her eyes answered Gwen's question. She opened her mouth to say something more, but then both were interrupted by a groan near the changing screen. "Do I really have to?"

"Yes, Merlin," Gwen said with a long-suffering but amused tone of voice, "you have to wear it. You know Arthur will throw a fit if you show up with your old neckerchief for this ceremony."

"He always throws fits," Merlin said sullenly, "I should know since he throws things at me when he has them. Besides, nothing's wrong with my neckerchiefs."

Gwen rolled her eyes and Hunith shook her head. "Yes, but you shouldn't wear them for this."

"What makes this banquet so different?" Merlin continued, "we have lots of banquets. That's why your husband's belt needs so much enhancing."

"Merlin!" Gwen tried to sound indignant on Arthur's behalf but she was laughing too much to be convincing. "Just put it on, please."

There was a grumble that was nearly muffled by a flurry of cloth and the muted clink of buttons being buttoned, and then the spot behind the changing screen was silent. Both women leaned expectantly towards the screen, but the man hiding behind it made no effort to extract himself from it. "Come on out then, Merlin,"

Gwen said, grinning.

There was a wearied sigh and then Merlin stepped out from behind the screen with a sour look on his face. Hunith let out a delighted gasp. "Oh, Merlin," she sighed, "you look so handsome."

Handsome and irritated, she mentally amended as she watched her son walk out looking pressed and proper and dignified in his red embroidered coat and utterly annoyed. "I feel like a stuffed bird," he said almost petulantly, as he looked in the mirror. "I look like one too. This is the prat's revenge on me isn't it?" he asked Gwen, "this is his revenge for something he thinks that I did. It's the blo-blasted hat" he shot a nervous glance at Hunith, "all over again."

Gwen once again failed to keep back her laughter. "But you look so handsome, Merlin," she replied, "and you need to look your best anyway."

"Why?" Merlin asked curiously, "All I'm going to be doing is keeping his cup from running dry like always. I can do that wearing my neckerchiefs."

Gwen looked like she was about to say something but stopped herself.

"Merlin, come over here," Hunith said softly, standing up. Merlin walked over and she began to brush one hand through his bangs until they settled onto his forehead in some semblance of order. "There you are." She smiled up at Merlin, and smiled in a sweet but melancholy way. Had he been that tall when he'd left Ealdor? The years had rushed by and she almost regretted not being there to see all that had happened to make him the man he was.

"Mum?" Merlin questioned and looked down into her face, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Hunith assured him, "I've just missed you."

His eyes softened and he pulled her into another hug. There was the quiet closing of a door behind them and they looked to see Arthur coming into the chamber. Gwen sent her husband an undeniable glare, but Merlin simply squeezed Hunith's shoulder and stepped back, awaiting whatever instructions Arthur had for him.

Arthur winced beneath Gwen's glare and said, "It's time for the banquet to start. We need to go."

Hunith looked suddenly nervous and Gwen came over to her, hooking an arm around the older woman's and walking out with her into the hallway. The two men watched them leave for a moment before Merlin turned to the king. "Arthur?"

Arthur looked at him.

"Thank you."

~.~

Hunith frowned thoughtfully as she and Merlin followed Gwen and Arthur up to the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a veritable throng of people had assembled below. She was unaware of the intricacies of courtly protocol, but it seemed strange to her that a banquet would start on the balcony. She turned to look at Merlin to ask him, but the perplexed expression on her son's face didn't promise much explanation.

Arthur and Gwen walked over to the balcony edge, their crowns both glinting in the later afternoon sun, but Merlin quietly took his place in the slightly shaded corner of the balcony. He reached out to gently grab his mother's forearm to stop her from following the royals all the way. Gwen looked back at the both of them and gave a dazzling smile before squeezing Arthur's hand and stepping backward.

"Is there to be an announcement?" Hunith asked quietly.

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know," his eyebrows met, "but if they found out that Gwen is expecting and tell the whole kingdom before telling me, I'm going to kill the prat."

The strength of his mother's elbow surprised him as it dug into his ribs and made him grunt. "Merlin!"

A slight twitching upward of the king's lips was the only indication that Arthur had heard what was going on behind him. He looked out over the crowd of people and spoke. "People of Camelot," he said, "you have been called here for a great announcement – one that has been far overdue for far too long."

"Going to kill him," Merlin muttered.

"In these years, I have seen Camelot grow strong and secure – thanks in part to those brave men – and women ," he added with a smile as he looked at his wife, "who have sacrificed so much to make it so. It is beyond my power to reward them as much as they deserve, but all have received their thanks. All but one." He turned around and looked his best friend in the eye. "Merlin."

Merlin had stiffened, his face frozen in surprise and slight anxiety, and made no move to step forward. Arthur rolled his eyes and gave a slight nod to someone behind Merlin and Hunith. Merlin was unceremoniously shoved forward and he glared back at Gwaine, whose arm was outstretched and his face grinning unrepentedly. "Go, Merlin, don't keep the princess waiting."

Hunith watched as her son straightened out his coat and walked forward to join the king, noting the slight trembling about his knees. He always did hate public speaking.

"You all know him," Arthur continued, turning back towards the crowd, "and seen him at my side through all the trials that Camelot has faced. I have often underestimated his bravery, his loyalty, and his shows of wisdom – but he never ceased to give all that he had to protect Camelot. And recently," he said, clapping a hand on Merlin's shoulder as the man's eyes were widening in realization, "I have learned of another way he has defended us. I am speaking," Arthur cleared his throat and spoke the next three words clearly into the sharp, cool air, "of his magic."

The words stoked up a sudden murmuring of voices below them, the sound full of awe and surprise and encouragingly little trepidation. Merlin gave a strange squawk of shock but looked down with surprise at the people who were not revolting below.

"He stayed in Camelot and protected it with his magic, even though he knew that it could lead to his death. And because of his sacrifices," Arthur looked very seriously at Merlin and the next words could have been just for his friend, "I know that magic is not pure evil as my father had thought. It is a tool like a sword is a tool – it can defend as well as wound, protect as well as harm. And for that reason," he said, clearing his throat once more, "I am repealing the ban on magic."

Merlin nearly staggered backward, and Hunith's hands flew up to her mouth. Gwen smiled a teary smile at Merlin, and Arthur gripped his shoulder reassuringly. "Furthermore, I name Merlin as my court warlock. Together we shall heal the rift between magic and Camelot."

With that, the crowd burst into boisterous applause below. The magic announcement was a bit daunting but most knew and liked Merlin and so trusted him as they always did.

Arthur smiled at Merlin, a genuine, proud smile. "You're free, Merlin."

Merlin turned to face his mother who had slowly walked up behind him. Amidst the roar of applause and approval down below, the two clutched each other tightly, the tears beginning to run down both of their faces. Free. He was finally free.

Hunith held him close, and for the first time since she'd sent him to Camelot, finally felt certain she'd made the right decision. She knew that he was happy, and with Gaius he could learn much more about his power. But she had felt almost as though she had sent her child off to the execution block, and seeing the back of him walk away was like watching his father escape from Ealdor before Uther came. She wasn't completely sure that she would ever see him again.

The two pulled back and even Hunith couldn't read the emotions swirling about in her son's eyes. But the smile he was wearing was genuine. "Mother," he whispered, looking around at the rowdy crowd below, Arthur and Gwen looking at them, and Gwaine and the other knights yelling boisterously, "I did it."

Hunith looked her son straight in the face, taking in the worry lines around his eyes, the stance of a man who has borne the weight of the world but continued on, the eyes that glowed with wisdom and awareness. He had been but a boy when she'd sent him to Camelot. Now he was a man, and he was free. If only his father could be here, she thought as she reached up to touch Merlin's cheek.

"Yes," she said proudly, as she looked at the remarkable person her son had become, "you did it."

* * *

A/N: The end! Good grief, that was a long one. I hope you all liked it!

Thanks for reading, and please review! They make me happy!


	21. Brooding at the Bar

Greetings Readers! After a bit of a break, here's the next oneshot. It was inspired by mannana, who asked for a Gwaine story. Here it be!

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

The man at his usual post at the corner of the bar raised one hand amidst the chaos that surrounded him, and signaled for a drink. The bartender nodded in response, sliding a mug brimming with ale towards the other man who caught it with a motion that had been perfected through years of practice.

It was all very normal for Sir Gwaine when he came drinking in the Rising Sun, but the bartender noticed with a frown that something seemed different about the knight that evening. For one, he had not come in with any of the other knights or with the young man with the ragged neckerchief. That in itself wasn't the strangest thing, as Gwaine was uninhibited in talk whether he was drunk or not, never having a problem with going up to complete strangers and starting a boisterous conversation. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't talking, instead keeping to himself in the corner of the bar. Maybe it was because he had barely responded to the ale sloshing over his fingers as he caught the mug, where he usually would have tilted back his head and roared with laughter.

But mostly it was the look of sheer emptiness as he stared into the full tankard of ale, making no effort to drink it.

That was the strangest thing. The bartender looked at him curiously, picking up a rag and cleaning one of the tankards with it. In fact, he didn't think he had seen Gwaine take more than a few sips that night – and he usually gulped ale down like it was water – and he hadn't finished any of the tankards he'd ordered . They had all been knocked down to the ground in bar fights that Gwaine had not joined or even reacted towards.

"You all right?" The bartender asked conversationally, wiping the glass a bit harder than was necessary.

Gwaine shook himself from his stupor and gave the bartender a rakish smile that, while considerably dimmer than his usual smirks, was enough to make two barmaids in the corner swoon. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

The bartender opened his mouth and then shut it. If the man wanted to talk, he would talk – and talk and talk. It wasn't his business to push into the customers' personal business unless they told him in the freeness of booze. But it was hard to keep from getting involved when the man looked like he had lost his best friend.

Gwaine's fingers curled around the handle of the tankard and tightened, but he made no effort to lift the ale to his lips. His mind was racing so quickly it made him dizzy and far more disoriented than _any_ amount of alcohol had ever managed to accomplish.

He had always prided himself on being a man of action, but with what had just happened … he didn't know what to do.

It had been the usual: another day, another patrol, another evil creature trying to take out Arthur and/or Camelot. It was really an almost boring day if Gwaine didn't fully enjoy the rush of adrenaline that pulsed through his veins as he flung himself into battle. So when the beast let out an enormous roar that shook the earth and swiped its spiked tail in a motion that knocked all of the knights down, Gwaine thought that he really should have expected that. Same old, same old.

As usual, everyone was knocked out, but Gwaine had managed to shake the haziness from his head more quickly than usual and looked around with a dazed smirk on his face. They really needed to have a heart-to-heart with their resident princess about how helmets were supposed to _prevent_ concussions from having.

He shakily pulled himself up on one elbow, and then his heart stopped as he saw the lanky form of his best friend walking up to the great beast.

_The faithful, brave idiot! He didn't have enough combat training to actually take down a beast._

Gwaine attempted to scramble to his feet, but the waves of dizziness were too much and he fell back to the earth with a subdued puff of air. _Merlin,_ he yelled in his mind, _get back! Save yourself!_

But any words that might have actually made it to his throat died as he saw Merlin raise his arms with a fluid, natural movement and mutter some strange words. The younger man's eyes blazed gold even as a torrent of blue and silver flame burst from his palms and engulfed the creature. Gwaine suddenly couldn't breath again.

Magic. Merlin had _magic_.

When Merlin looked around after having slayed the beast, checking the surroundings to make sure that the knights had come through the ordeal relatively unharmed, Gwaine, much to his shame, had closed his eyes and pretended to be unconscious. It was the coward's way out, but he didn't want that confrontation…not then. Not while his mind was trying to reconcile the forbidden concept of magic with the clumsy, faithful, honorable Merlin…

Lot's kingdom did not outwardly loathe magic the way that Camelot did under Uther's rule, but instead treated it with the utmost caution. Never trust a man who conceals his weapon. Gwaine had had learned that lesson all too well when he'd struck it out on his own. One of his deepest and most painful scars had come from turning his back on a seemingly old beggar who seemed completely defenseless until the man had pulled a dagger from beneath his rumpled tunic, stabbing it into the younger man's back before stealing the few coins in his pouch.

He knew there was more to Merlin than met the eye … but he had never guessed that Merlin had …

It was only because of the collective exhaustion felt by the bruised and battered knights that no one mentioned Gwaine's uncharacteristic silence on the ride back to Camelot. He barely registered Merlin's retelling of what had happened, with Arthur and the collective knights' efforts being what had brought the creature down. If he hadn't been so dazed, he would have laughed. Even that excuse was the same – how could he not have seen it before? Were they all that blind?

It hadn't taken too long after they'd returned to Camelot for Gwaine to accept the truth. Merlin had magic. Merlin was magic. Merlin had probably saved their hides even more than Gwaine had realized.

But most of all, Merlin was his friend, magic or not. And he would stand by him.

However, once the acceptance had sunk in, Gwaine was besieged in fear. What were they going to do?

He wasn't going to turn in Merlin, the idea was absolutely ridiculous. But it was too much to hope for that Arthur would never find out … and if he did, Gwaine wasn't sure he wanted to be ruled by such a dim king anyway. For all of his retorts and backtalk, Gwaine truly had come to respect the young king, and although his loyalty was directly linked to Merlin, he meant the pledge of fealty he had sworn. So now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Arthur had already shown himself to be a far greater king than his father so Gwaine hoped that he wouldn't let the indoctrinated fear of magic cloud his judgment. He would think that Arthur would eventually accept Merlin for what he was, although he was equally certain that there would be a breach cut by angry words between the two before that happened.

But what if he was wrong? What if Arthur lost his head over this, and ordered that Merlin would then lose his? He would be forced to watch his greatest friend die in ignominy and pain.

He could _not_ let that happen.

His heart sank at the thought of having to defend Merlin from Arthur, but he knew that he would have to if it came to down to that. But how would he do it? Being king, Arthur had all of Camelot at his disposal. If he truly wanted to destroy Merlin, Arthur had far more resources to do so than Gwaine had to save him.

Should Gwaine smuggle Merlin out of the city now, to avoid the trouble later? Would he have to fight his brother knights to keep Merlin from the executioner's block? Would they give him a second chance, an extra moment to escape? Merlin was their brother, too. Surely they wouldn't let that fear destroy the relationships they'd held with him. He wished he knew.

If he knew anything for certain, it was that _nothing_ was certain.

It was for the purpose of puzzling out a strategy for saving Merlin should the worst happen that Gwaine had retreated to his usual bar, far from the distractions of the other knights, the king, or that particularly distracting chambermaid who made eyes at him whenever she saw him. Shrouded in the cacophony of drunken voices and the smell of spilled ale, he hid from the world and desperately thought of plans. But anything he thought of fell into nothing and he was close to indulging in drunken tears, a sight not unseen in a bar but certainly unseen in him.

Someone sat on the stool beside him and spoke. "Hey, Gwaine?"

Gwaine froze at the voice. The voice of the person he had been avoiding most of all while he was trying to get his head on straight. He turned and looked at the newcomer. "Hey, mate."

Merlin grinned at him and leaned back on his stool. "Arthur's been looking for you – something about briefing about helmets?" He shrugged, "I hope it's not about making them heavier – they're hard enough to polish as is!" He laughed, then said, "I figured I'd find you here – at least this time I didn't have to look in every tavern in Angerd."

It was an old joke, and they both laughed. However, Gwaine's laugh didn't boom as it normally did, and Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly in concern. "You all right?" he asked, "I thought something might have been wrong when we were coming back, but when I tried to find you … you weren't in the castle."

Gwaine might have known that Merlin would have picked up on that … and would then try to make things better. He was a good man. "Yeah, everything's fine," or at least it would be. They'd figure something out.

"If you're sure," Merlin said skeptically, "then we'd better get going. Shall we?"

Gwaine grinned at him. "You got to say the magic words."

Merlin froze and stared at him, emotions fleeing across his face in a blur. Gwaine maintained the smile, but he was sure that Merlin could see the seriousness and the silent promise in his eyes. Merlin let out a small sound that was half gasp and half relieved laughter and looked at his friend with gratitude. "Please?"

Gwaine stood up and clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Of course. You know I'll follow you anywhere."

And really, that was all that needed to be said.

* * *

A/N: I love this friendship!

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	22. The King, His Servant, and a Tavern

Greetings Readers! Here's the next oneshot! It's humor (for once) and I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

"Where is he?" the king bellowed in a not very regal way as he burst into the tavern, the two doors crashing into the walls from the force of his stride.

The occupants of the tavern all jumped at the sudden crash, even the more burly, tough patrons. If anything, they might have been wincing more than the less manly customers, because many of them had heard the anger of that voice before. Because, although the Rising Sun was one of the more reputable taverns in Camelot, it attracted its fair share of degenerates, criminals, and ne'er do wells. Some of whom had not, technically, stayed around long enough after their sentencing to fulfill their punishment…

So several of the patrons had begun shuffling around frantically for ways to shield their faces, and more than a few were eying the exit just beyond the king longingly, but Arthur was too distracted to notice. It was a little odd how eyes that had been trained to seek down opponents and game like a hawk could miss things that were right in front of him, but Arthur had perfected that skill over the years that Merlin had worked for him.

The king stormed towards the bar, his steps quick and harsh, and thunderclouds brewing just behind his eyes. The bartender, who bore more than a few scars from brawls he'd been forced to break up behind the bar and the brawls he'd gotten into the other side as a young man, flinched and had to fight the urge to duck behind the bar. He was pretty certain that he'd been keeping up to date with his monthly tax of the building…but even if he hadn't surely the king himself wouldn't come to collect. Would he?

"Where is he?"

The bartender looked up into the king's eyes and had to restrain himself from swallowing noticeably. Arthur's tone had calmed down considerably, but there was still a fiery storm brewing in his eyes that made enemies cringe and the bartender step back. Whoever the king was looking for, he had all of the bartender's sympathy.

"Who, sire?"

"Who…" Arthur looked bemused for a moment, but did not allow himself to become distracted, "Who do you think? That halfwit, lazy, drunkard servant of mine."

The bartender stared at him. He wondered if the king knew how little that helped. Most of the servants that would come into the tavern would act like lazy halfwit drunkards because they needed a break from the backbreaking monotony of palace work. Either that, or they were lazy halfwit drunkards. Teetotalers rarely darkened his doors. "I'm sorry, sire, could you be more specific?"

Arthur blinked several times, and the fire was replaced by confusion. The bartender stopped fearing for his livelihood enough to smile at his perplexed statement and resumed polishing the glass he was holding.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten…and then to twenty. This was not working out to be one of his better days. All he'd wanted was to find out where his ceremonial sword was for a knighting he had later in the day, and all the blacksmith had to say about it was that Merlin had retrieved it several hours before. He'd hunted his lazy servant all over the castle, finally ending up in Gaius' chambers. Gaius had said that Merlin was in the tavern.

Again.

Arthur was a king. Arthur had many things that he had to do. Arthur had lots of servants who could run menial tasks for him while he did those things that needed to be done. But Arthur was also incredibly irritated with a certain servant, so irritated that he left all but the most important tasks with his council members and stormed out into the town. He had fully intended to find Merlin and drag him back ignominiously back into the castle before throwing him into the stocks for as long as it took to keep him from going out drinking when there was work to be done. But he had no success, and this was the third tavern he'd tried.

How could Merlin go out drinking all the time and still function? How much money did he waste on drinks there, not counting the times he'd had to bail Gwaine out? Arthur stopped the process of rubbing his nose and his mind wandered over the last few years of Merlin's employment. When _was_the last time he'd paid Merlin? How much did he even get?

With all the drinking he'd done, Merlin had surely run up a tab. Arthur felt tentatively at the pouch jangling with gold at his waist and met the bartender's eyes. He would ask the bartender what Merlin's tab was – a person's memory was often more acute when money was involved – and then pay it. That way he could both get Merlin out of any trouble he was in, and have a certain slip of paper to hold over a certain servant/best friend's head.

"Come now, you must know who I mean," Arthur began in a poor imitation of patience, "Merlin? The tall, skinny man with the black hair and scruffy neckerchief? The one who drinks like a fish?"

The bartender frowned. "That sounds familiar, I've seen him before I think with one of our regulars…but it couldn't be the same man. He claims he could get drunk off a barmaid's apron, and I've seen the very like happen. He's a complete lightweight."

"So…" Arthur frowned, "you have no tab for Merlin here?"

"No," the bartender shook his head, "as much as I'd love for you to cover some of my longer standing tabs, none of them are for a Merlin."

Arthur's frown grew, his eyebrows knitting. "That's strange."

"I'm sorry, sire."

Arthur nodded his thanks before turning and leaving the tavern much more quietly than he had entered it. As the tavern doors swung behind him, there was an audible sound of relief from the patrons.

Arthur stood beside his horse, his brow furrowed in thought. Gaius said that Merlin went to the tavern…but yet no one recognized him…and there was no tab anywhere to be paid. It just didn't add up.

Then suddenly, everything came together and he could see the truth with glaring clarity. It all made sense!

He'd never had thought Merlin clever enough to actually don a disguise and fake name when entering a tavern – but it was genius. He still could not approve laziness and drunkenness whilst on duty, but at least Merlin's presence wasn't spreading rumors about the competency of the castle or the royal family.

When Merlin came back from whichever tavern he'd been in, holding the ceremonial sword in one hand and covered in something that looked remarkably like the ash of a chimera, Arthur had clapped the man on the back. And then coughed.

"You really should stop the drinking, Merlin," he said, heartily, "but at least you have more sense than I thought."

Merlin had just stared – his throat was still sore from bellowing spells for a solid thirty minutes while trying to slay a beast that could have been killed with Excalibur in two seconds. Why had he grabbed the wrong sword?

He just shook his head and sighed. Sometimes he wondered if Arthur was ever going to get it.

* * *

A/N: Why do I like writing Arthur so oblivious? WHY? ...Probably because I think it's funny.

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	23. The Naked Knight Rides Again

Greetings Readers!

I hope that you like this new oneshot. The title came from a title prompt from The Heart of Camelot website, courtesy of mannana. I blame her. LOL. It's very silly.

Warning: Set after season 4, nakedness and innuendos, but nothing explicit. T. Silliness. Lots of silliness.

* * *

"Merlin!" Gaius bellowed as he burst into the younger man's bedroom with a speed impressive for one of his years, causing the door to slam into the wall and the occupant in the bed bolt upwards. "You're needed in the upper town now!"

"Arthur?" Merlin asked blearily, reaching around for the tunic he had slung over the head of the bed. He mentally cursed at the smear of radish juice across the collar – Cook picked the oddest times to try strange experiments with the royal garden, and the concoction had not been well received.

Gaius flung a pair of pants at him. "Hurry!"

"Town under attack by Morgana?"

"No."

"Some magical creature wreaking havoc?"

"There is havoc," Gaius said flatly, watching Merlin jump up and nearly crash into the headpost as he struggled into his boots, "follow me, now."  
There was a taut stiffness in the man's face that Merlin dared not question, and instead he tore out of the physician's chambers, following his mentor out into the late darkness of the evening.

xxx

Merlin blinked once. Then twice. And then a third time. Things still didn't make sense after that, so he quit blinking and began glaring at Gaius, who looked a little sheepish. "You called me down here for this – you said this was an emergency."

Gaius crossed his arms and scowled reprovingly at the proceedings. "This is an emergency."

Merlin yawned broadly and groaned, "Come on, Gaius, someone else could do this. It doesn't have to be me."

Gaius' face was resolute. "Merlin, it's your duty."

Merlin felt the need to disagree. As Arthur's manservant, it was his duty to attend the prat, protect his life, and give advice that would be disregarded and covertly used. As Gaius' apprentice, it was his duty to help tend to the sick, gather herbs and other necessities for medicines, and keep the chambers neat. As the greatest warlock ever and destiny's securer of Avalon, it was duty to defeat all evil magical creatures, solve the obstacles in Camelot's path, and do it all in secret.

Nowhere, in any of his three jobs, did he know of any duty that required him to chase down some strange gallivanting naked man on a horse. What were the guards in this town _for_, anyway?

"Who is it?" He whispered at Gaius, as he tried to both look away and get a closer look at the same time

"A knight," Gaius muttered back.

"No," Merlin said, shaking his head, "I mean who is he?"

"I don't know, Merlin," Gaius replied, and gave him a very pointed look. Merlin's eyes widened in response and he groaned before he dutifully returned his gaze to the…spectacle.

At first, Merlin was surprised that the knight, whoever he was, was not wearing the customary red cloak of Camelot – the knights seemed to wear them whenever they were riding. Then, he was glad that the knight wasn't wearing the cloak – it would have immediately linked the rider, and his mortifying behavior, to Camelot and her king. That, among other things, would have only made Arthur mad, and a more pratly king was something Merlin tried to avoid – it led to a lot more pointless chores for the poor manservant as Arthur could no longer rant and blow off any unregal steam in the privacy of his chambers. Not unless he wanted to look like a petulant idiot in front of his wife.

And then the horse turned and looked at Merlin, who immediately flushed and averted his eyes, wishing that the knight in question had the cloak with him – at least then he would be able to cover up with something. As it was, the man was completely exposed – to the elements, to the open air, and to the gaze of several admiring young women who were being hastily herded into their homes by their mothers. He noted that several of the disappearing matrons sent him scolding looks. Even they were making this his responsibility.

He felt an authoritative prodding in his upper shoulders and gave a yelp of pain as he turned to face an unrepentant Gaius.

"Go on then, Merlin," the older man said calmly, "the sooner this is taken care of, the sooner we can get back to sleep."

Merlin rubbed his shoulder. "Why couldn't you do it? You're the court physician, you've seen plenty of – " his face flushed a noticeable red, discernable even in the faint moonlight, and waved his hands ineffectually.

"Merlin," Gaius said in an almost long-suffering voice, "I'm too old to be chasing a mad horse about – I leave that to the young men."

That argument might have held more weight, had the horse not been standing still for the past five minutes. Although, of course, as soon as Merlin walked quietly towards it, it broke out into a speedy canter all around the square, giving all those watching a good look at his rider, whose face was constantly blank, as though he were asleep. Merlin tried chasing the horse for a good ten minutes before resorting to stronger measures.

Gaius gave his ward a very pointed look as he magically stopped the horse so abruptly that the hapless rider flung himself face forward into the horse's bony neck and knocked himself fully unconscious before falling onto the ground. Merlin shrugged in an almost irritated way. He realized that most of his rescues seemed to result, at one point or another, in the unconsciousness of whoever he was rescuing, but it was hardly as though he was doing it on purpose. And it got the job done.

Then the main task at hand was getting the unconscious knight back to the castle for a medical examination, and possibly a cold poultice for his head. (Merlin found that unnecessary, he couldn't have hit the horse that hard). It was clear that they couldn't force the man to walk back or for Merlin to drag him along with anything other than magic. And, as he couldn't use magic in public, they decided to use the horse to get him back, and there they hit another dilemma.

Which way to put the man on the horse?

To put a man wearing nothing face down on a horse seemed a bit cruel to his … lower area, but there wasn't a whole lot of dignity to having him lie across the horse face up. Although the girls who managed to peek out the windows by leaning across their mamas' arms seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.

In the end, Merlin had to strip off his shirt (causing several of the girls watching to flush and chatter enthusiastically after his naked torso) and drape it over the should-be-private area of the other man's body before securing the knight to the horse. As he walked the horse back towards the castle, trying to surreptitiously hide his bare chest and torso from the somehow equally enthusiastic gazes of the village girls, he hoped that tomorrow might be light enough so he could get some rest.

He knew better than to expect it, however.

xxx

There were times, Merlin told himself as he nearly tripped over a shadow in the training field while carrying Arthur's armor, that he hated being right. He wasn't able to get much sleep even after they'd gotten the unconscious knight back to the castle and into his chambers. Gaius had chosen that time, after they'd pulled a pair of loose trousers onto the nude knight, to examine the man's head for any damage. He didn't find any except for a growing bruise just above his hairline, although he had spent a few moments checking beneath the eyelids and clucking in a clinically fascinated fashion. "Lot of eye movement for this stage of sleep," he commented to Merlin.

Merlin had simply yawned and let his eyes drift towards the door, the closer to his own bed.

Of course, the prat didn't give him much of a break, even with the shadows under his eyes, and he'd been working solid ever since Gwen had retreated from her chambers with Arthur to do queenly things. Arthur seemed to have some sort of bizarre sense of when Merlin was especially tired and gave him even more inane tasks to complete as a result. His mind was poisoned, after years of Gaius' poor excuse making abilities, and now assumed that whenever Merlin was tired he had either been up to no good or drinking the night away at a local tavern.

He hadn't been at the tavern in weeks, but the prat was going to drive him to drink at this rate.

Oddly enough, he wasn't the only person who was half asleep on the training ground. Gwaine was weaving back and forth slightly as he watched Arthur spar with Leon, humming some sort of disjointed tune and with a drowsy yet cocky grin that made the kitchen girl, who'd come out with a message for Merlin, nearly faint. Off to the side, Percival was trying his best to pay attention, but kept raising his highly muscled and therefore highly noticeable arm to hide his yawns. Next to him, Elyan was examining his sword for any breaks and muttering curses under his breath when it slipped from his tired fingers.

Even Leon, usually the epitome of professionalism and propriety, was distracted. In his drowsy state, Arthur was quickly able to defeat him, and Leon found himself on the ground with his king's sword at his chest. Arthur grinned down at him.

"Do you yield?" he asked, raising one eyebrow in triumph.

Leon nodded and laughed before taking Arthur's hand to be pulled back to his feet. "Well played, Arthur," he replied and then groaned, rubbing the small of his back.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked, "Should Merlin go get Gaius?"

Leon shook his head. "I'm fine," he replied, "just getting old, I suppose."

"Nonsense!" Arthur barked, slapping him on the shoulder. And then yawned.

"Tired, Princess?" Gwaine grinned rakishly, "Were you up all night?"

His tone made it clear that he had a pretty good idea just what might have been keeping Arthur up the night before, but Arthur didn't respond. He simply turned a bright red that wasn't caused by the exertion of the sparring, and ran a hand consciously through his hair. Gwaine roared with laughter, and was joined by several of the older knights, although Percival flushed a dark red and Elyan hid his face with one of his hands. There were some things a brother preferred not to know.

Arthur reached valiantly for a more placid expression and said brusquely, "That'll be all for the morning. Let's break for lunch." He looked over at Merlin, who had taken a step forward, "What did the girl have to say?"

Merlin cleared his throat and his face assumed the apologetic cast of one about to impart unwelcome news. "She wanted to war-let us know that the cook has prepared more of the radish juice. And," he added as he saw most of the knights pale in horror, "she expects everyone to drink it. And like it."

The groans seemed to harmonize with each other and fill the whole of the arena as the knights gathered up their equipment and trooped to the armory. "That woman is barking, I'm telling you," Gwaine muttered in a loud aside to the others, and there was a response of general agreement.

"I don't know," Leon replied, "I like it. I haven't had it since I was a young boy."

"You're barking," Gwaine mumbled, "You want my juice? You can have it."

Merlin had to bite back a grin as he heard the knights all clamoring to let Leon to have their juice. They might have to roll the senior knight out of the dining room after lunch.

xxx

Merlin had spent all day discretely observing the knight, checking him for any sort of magical enchantment or curse that might have led to his odd behavior the night before. But beyond a bit of tiredness, there was nothing wrong with his appearance or behaviors. Merlin would have liked to put it down as a fluke, but things were never quite that easy.

Therefore, he was hardly surprised when Gaius once again burst into his room and more or less demanded that Merlin fix the situation. That hardly seemed fair – this seemed more medical or psychosomatic, and that was really Gaius' field. But there was no use arguing with Gaius, especially when he kept joggling Merlin's elbow like that, and so he drearily got up to fix the problem again.

Just like last night, the horse was confused and jittery, and the knight didn't respond to any of Merlin's pleading. Only this time, there was an entire audience of goggling younger women, all cooing and squealing in appreciation of the knight's admittedly sculpted physique. Now Merlin had to not only contend with a skittish horse, a naked knight, a gaggle of disapproving townswomen and a scoffing Gaius, now there was a score of giggling young women he had to contend with. So magic was really out of the question now, and Merlin was groggy and running out of options.

It was distinctly hard to both chase after the horse and preserve whatever he could of the knight's dignity. In fact, if the girls' increased squealing was any indication, the jolting of the horse was exposing more of the knight if anything. Merlin spent several minutes chasing after the horse in vain, even falling into a huge puddle at one point, soaking his shirt clean through. He took it off (the night was chilly and he couldn't afford to catch a cold) and for some reason, the girlish giggling and squealing only intensified. If he hadn't been so irritated at not catching the horse, he might have spent a few moments trying to puzzle it out.

At one point, he seriously considered just using a simple spell and knocking the whole lot unconscious. But he talked himself out of it. The gratuitious show of illegal magic notwithstanding, it would also mean that he and Gaius (meaning just him) would then have to lug all the unconscious females back into their homes. That would take time and only the most optimistic would assume they could get the right women in the right house the first time around. Also, Gaius had been giving him a hard time lately about just how many times Arthur had been knocked unconscious in their adventures. He was still surprised that no amount of brain damage seemed to have occurred, but he still was apprehensive about it happening.

Even though most of those times Merlin had nothing to do with it, he still got the lecture. And so he was especially careful to avoid knocking people out.

"The naked knight…he's riding again!" One of the girls whispered to a friend who had just walked and was gleefully gobsmacked at the sight.  
_  
Well,_ Merlin thought, _it could be worse. They could actually know who he is._

He got the horse to stop merely by a lucky break. He'd gotten so frustrated at chasing around the bloody horse for nearly half an hour with a sodden shirt under his arm, that he'd just thrown the material at the animal. It had covered the horse's eyes and, deprived of sight, the horse slowed to a gradual walk and then finally stopped.

If he'd had the energy, Merlin would have cried in relief.

The girls moaned as one at the end of the show, and the mothers began to herd them back into their homes, giving Merlin and the knight looks that were not completely disapproving. One of the younger ones even winked at them.

They walked the horse back to the castle, with Merlin's soaked shirt stretched strategically over the knight (because it was better than nothing and Merlin was not about to take off his pants to cover the other man. If he got a cold in the morning, that was fine with Merlin at that point), and attempted to sneak into Gaius' chambers without running into anyone. They'd almost made it.

The two had actually managed to lug the sleeping knight straight to Gaius' chambers where they ran into someone at the door. It was Gwen – she still wasn't quite used to being waited on at odd hours of the night, so if she needed something after her maidservant had gone to bed she tended to get it herself.

"Hello," she smiled brightly at the two, "I was hoping I wouldn't disturb you. I just needed some tonic for an upset stomach." She cocked an eyebrow at Merlin's shirtless state. "Why are you not wearing a – "

She then saw the nearly nude bundle behind them and turned a bright red. "Leon?" Her mouth opened and closed before it quirked into an almost restrained smile. "Oh, I might have known. It's the radishes, isn't it?"

The two conscious men in the hallway stared at her. "What do you mean, Gwen?" Gaius asked wearily, "And please say it slowly, these old bones aren't used to wandering around this time of night."

"My mother worked as a maid for his family," Gwen began, trying valiantly not to look at the naked knight, "and once or twice, when she stayed for the night, she saw Leon sleepwalking."

"Sleepwalking?" Merlin asked.

Gwen nodded. "And both times it happened after they'd had radishes for lunch or supper. Something about the radishes must have set him off, because they stopped eating them when he was very little, and he's never sleepwalked since."

Merlin stared at his friend for a few minutes before bursting out into laughter. "It all comes down to radishes then? No illness, nothing serious."

Gwen shook her head.

"Okay then." Merlin's manic grin was slightly frightening.

xxx

When the cook went to the palace garden the next day, she found that somehow all the radishes were ruined. If she hadn't known any better, she might have guessed that they'd all been set on fire.

There was general cheering on the part of the knights and the kitchen staff at the devastating news, although Leon had sighed wistfully at the loss of his childhood favorite.

Merlin simply stood at the back and smiled.

* * *

A/N: Did you like it? LOL Who was able to guess who the knight was at first? I'm curious. I apologize for the silliness, I'm on a roll with that it seems. Angst will be returning...eventually.

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	24. Conflictions

Greetings! Here's the next oneshot, I hope you like it!

On a sidenote, what do you think of my new book cover! A friend of mine, angellla29, on the Heart of Camelot website made it for me. Isn't it lovely?

Warnings: Merthur-ish, angst, some violence

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

"That's all for tonight," Arthur said. "Dismissed."

All of his knights began filing out of the armory, oddly silent for the comradely group, but they were exhausted, steeped in blood, sweat, fatigue from the recent battle. They were all so intent on finding their beds for some much-needed peace that they did not notice the defeat and confusion on their king's face. If any had seen the expression, especially any of his closest knights, they might have stopped to question it, as it was a strange one for a victorious warrior-king to wear.

Only Leon took a look back, but through the haze of fatigue, he could only see the physical tiredness before Arthur waved him away smoothly. Then the senior knight turned away, his mind fully focused on sleeping for next few days.

He didn't see the king lean against the wall, or slide down until he was on the floor, hiding his face in his hands.

Arthur's heart thudded painfully in his chest, the adrenaline pulsing through him with an ever greater intensity than it had in the throes of battle. It didn't help that he was comfortable and confident in battle, but almost completely out of his element in the situation he found himself in.

He nearly turned around to face Merlin to ask him for advice, but stopped himself. Merlin wasn't there, and it was partly his fault that Arthur was in this confusion in the first place. It was all the idiot's fault.

What good was it, being some all-powerful warlock, if you couldn't protect yourself from attack? What was the point if you couldn't heal yourself? If the idiot survived this, Arthur was going to kill him for being so selflessly foolish.

_Merlin could be dead already._

Arthur's rust-stained fingers wound themselves through his sweaty hair and pulled, enough to hurt. He'd hoped that if he pulled hard enough, the pain would be enough to block out the thought of Merlin, the strange adrenaline pulsing through him, the painful feelings he couldn't understand.

It didn't work.

xxx

The battle had been going on for hours, and warriors from both sides were showing signs of hastily shielded fatigue. Camelot was not losing, but neither were they winning – teetering on the brink between victory and defeat. Arthur was near the front of the battle, his sword brandishing sharply and fiercely in the chilly air and foes that would see his end were falling about him. However, he was so soon identified as one of the greatest threats and a throng of the enemy had set themselves upon them.

As a blend of sweat and strange blood coated his face and blurred his senses, Arthur wondered absently where Merlin was. The warlock had the uncanny knack of showing up when Arthur needed him most, but was nowhere in sight. As Arthur let out a war cry and swung his blade in a deadly circle, he hoped that the idiot hadn't done something stupid and gotten himself killed. Merlin could take care of himself, and was probably still defeating those that came closest to Camelot.

Arthur's feet slipped from beneath him and he fell to the ground, his attackers close behind him. Arthur saw his sword slip far beyond his reach and, seeing his imminent death, glared defiantly at his attackers. If he was going to die, he would not die a coward.

The sudden blast of golden light nearly blinded all the men on the field and when their eyes refocused, Camelot's court warlock was standing in front of his king, his body in a defensive position and his arms splayed outward. Arthur had tried to pull himself up, but was too winded to do so, instead propping himself up on his elbows.

"This ends now," Merlin said with a calm, cold voice that belied the rivulets of sweat flowing down his face, "Leave or be destroyed."

A brawnier soldier decided to answer by thrusting a lance in the direction of the warlock's ribs. Merlin made it stop in midair with a flick of his hand and then knocked the man onto his back with a flourish. His eyes never leaving the growing crowd of opponents, he cupped his hands and brought them together, a golden ball of light building in intensity and strength between them.

The warlock appeared to be about to release the powerful golden light when one of the opposing soldiers ran from behind, swinging his sword, intent on Arthur. Merlin spun around and cast a shield around the king with a sharp movement of his head.

However, that gave the enemy just enough time to get to Merlin. The scream, nearly inhuman with the intensity of pain, that Merlin made as the sword pierced the flesh of his leg and was pulled upward made Arthur's hair stand on end. He fell to his uninjured knee and with a cold look in his eyes released the ball of light. As it flashed across the landscape, all of the enemy fell down, although most seemed to be merely injured and unconscious – all except for the man who had tried to kill Arthur after the warlock's warning.

Merlin's eyes gleamed with the residual remnants of the spell, and then closed as he slumped sideways to the ground. Arthur finally managed to pull himself up to run to Merlin's side, although his muscles screamed with exhaustion.

Merlin's breath came in painful, short bursts, and a few tears spilled from his eyes from the sheer magnitude of the pain. Arthur had seen plenty of injuries, in battle and even in training, but he had to restrain from physically wretching at the bloody wreck of Merlin's leg. He forced himself to meet Merlin's eyes which, although still slightly golden from his spell casting, were beginning to dim.

_No._

"Don't you dare die on me, you idiot," Arthur barked, although his voice cracked considerably and he had to keep from shaking, "that's an order."

Merlin made an attempt at rolling his dimming eyes. "Like I ever listen to you."

"Please," Arthur's voice was all seriousness then, almost pleading, "hang on."

"Arthur," Merlin responded tiredly, his eyelids beginning to droop, "you have the others to think of. Get them to safety and it'll be fin-"

Arthur shook his head. "Stop trying to be noble, Merlin, it doesn't suit you." He debated quickly about carefully slinging the other over his shoulder, but didn't want to risk damaging the mess of a leg any further. Instead, he bent down, and began gingerly placing his arms underneath Merlin's knees and behind his back. "Grab on, I'm getting you out of here."

"Prat, take care of th-ahhhh!" Merlin nearly shouted in pain as Arthur lifted the younger man into his arms. He decided to stop complaining and just hang on for dear life, wrapping his arms around the king's neck.

Arthur froze.

It wasn't the first time Arthur had had to pull Merlin from battle. It wasn't even the first time he'd carried Merlin away from danger. But he'd always carried him over his shoulder, or there'd been a barrier between their skin. But in the mess of battle, a very scarred enemy had managed to tear a strip of chainmail from around Arthur's neck, leaving it bare. As for Merlin, he had discarded the robes he typically wore in court (through a combination of a drunken bet from Arthur and gentle pleading from Gwen) and was wearing a tunic and trousers. He claimed it was much easier to fight and less likely that'd he trip and make an idiot of himself.

But the point was, he'd never felt Merlin's skin. Certainly not around his neck, with the warm but wheezing breath fanning onto his bare skin.

Arthur thought his heart had stopped.

It was always difficult to keep a clear head when Mer- when any of his comrades or friends became injured. But it was so hard just to keep walking forward to his destination, and his mind wandered a little bit. The warm breath and the pressure on his neck and the slide of their skin together was just overwhelming…it was only when the blood from Merlin's tattered leg began to soak through the chainmail that Arthur got a hold of himself and practically ran to where Gaius was stationed, taking care not to jar Merlin's leg too much.

And even though he didn't want Merlin to get his wound infected or lose too much blood, he almost couldn't bear to put him down. Out of his arms.

xxx

It had been hours since they had all returned and Merlin had been in his arms, and the blood was still pounding in his head at a sickening pace. There was fury and fear, which came as no surprise, but there was some other emotion there, nearly overpowering the others. An emotion he couldn't identify or didn't want to identify, that emerged whenever he remember the feel of Merlin's skin and breath on his neck…

He didn't know what that emotion was, but it got more intense the closer he got to Merlin, so he stayed away. Even now that he was done with the men, he didn't get up to go see his court warlock where he was lying in Gaius' chambers, bloody and unconscious. He wanted to see his friend, to see that he was getting better, that he was going to be all right. But he couldn't trust himself to be there, not with his mind in such turmoil. He knew that, as bad as the rush of blood and emotions was at the moment, being near Merlin would be even more overwhelming. It would destroy him.

As Arthur felt the brush of his own arm across his forehead, he thought of Merlin's skin in the same place. For a moment he thought that destruction might not be so bad.

The door slowly opened, the creaking of the old hinge breaking his out of his reverie and back to his senses. "Arthur?"

Arthur looked up to see Gwen cautiously peeking her head into the room, looking for him amongst the darkening gloom. Her eyes skimmed the shadows of armor and swords, until they landed on Arthur. Her entire face lit up with relief and she ran over to him, her skirt billowing out behind her. Arthur stood up just in time for her to nearly jump into his arms, only holding back once she saw how tired he looked. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. Even as his heart beat slightly faster and he hugged her back, his mind wandered back to Merlin's arms tightly holding him.

He mentally shook his head. He was being ridiculous.

Gwen kissed him, full of gratitude and maybe some desperation, and Arthur responded after a moment. He felt his heart began to beat slightly faster, setting his mind somewhat at ease – although the rest of it noted that the speed was considerably different than it had been with Merlin. "I'm so glad to see that you're safe, Arthur," she said, smiling, "I was so worried! Not that," she added hastily, blushing, "I didn't think you could do it, but I still wor-"

Arthur, grinning, stopped her words with a kiss. She blushed. "I'm all right."

Gwen smiled, and then looked around. "Is everyone all right? Elyan? Merlin?"

Arthur, who had been a little distracted, started at the second name against his will, and Gwen blanched. "Merlin? Is he…is he all right?"

"He's…with Gaius," Arthur finished lamely, "his leg got injured."

"Then what in the world," Gwen countered, putting her hands on her hips, "are you doing here? He's your friend, Arthur! He needs you to be there. I'd go too but," she blushed slightly, and loosely gestured at her slightly distended stomach, "I can't climb the stairs."

A sensation like cold water crashed into Arthur as the sight reminded him just why he couldn't entertain … those feelings towards Merlin. He was married. He had a child. And it was probably just exhaustion anyway that made him think he thought of Merlin … like that.

Gwen stepped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Go on ahead, Arthur. Merlin needs you."

The thought made Arthur ecstatic and miserable all in one, and he escorted his wife back to their chambers in near silence. He helped her into bed and she gave him one last kiss before gently pushing on his shoulders. "Go on then," she smiled, "stay as long as you need."

He kissed her forehead and tried not to feel like he was betraying the two people whom he loved most in the world at the same time. "All right. Good night."

The walk to Gaius' chambers was tortuously wrong, but as much as part of Arthur longed to rush there with all the speed he possessed, he walked there slowly. He didn't want to crash into any of the guards, which might raise questions about why he'd been running around so late at night, and he was a little terrified at what would happen when he saw Merlin again.

But the thought of his cowardice keeping him from seeing Merlin for perhaps the last time spurred him forward.

Due to the lateness of the night, Arthur was able to get to Gaius' chambers without delay, but stared at the door for a few agonizing seconds before going in. He slowly opened the door, the familiar creak of the bottom hinge soothing his racing heart as he looked inside. The smell of ointment and blood permeated the dark room, and Arthur noted with relief that the men who had been wounded seemed to be resting comfortably in their cots. But he could not see Gaius – or Merlin.

Arthur's finely honed hearing picked up a muted squeaking of a cupboard behind the door of Merlin's old room and walked quietly towards it, not wanting to startle Merlin, were he conscious, or Gaius if he was tending to Merlin. As he raised up a fist to knock on the door, it opened inward and Gaius stopped in his tracks.

"Arthur!" he exclaimed in a surprised whisper, and then his face softened slightly. "Is something wrong?"

The younger man shook his head. "No, I just wanted to see –" Arthur cleared his suddenly tight throat. "How is he?"

Gaius stepped to the side, holding an arm out welcomingly towards the cot below the window. "He'll be fine – would you like to see yourself?"

Arthur could only nod, and followed the older man to the wounded warlock's bedside, his heart catching in his throat at the weary expression on Merlin's face. It might have been the shafts of moonlight coming in through the window, but Merlin looked terribly pale.

Gaius saw the conflicted expression on the young king's face and accurately read it. "That's all right, Arthur," he assured, "he's a little more pale, but that's because of the magical strain he's under." Not waiting for the other's perplexed gaze to meet his, the physician gestured down to where Merlin's leg was bound and generously bandaged. When Arthur squinted, he could see a faint golden glow emanating from beneath the bandage. "It's healing him," Gaius continued, "I personally would have had him recover from the blood loss before any attempt at repairing the wound, but you try controlling the elements."

Merlin gave a slight moan and twisted in his sleep, but did not wake up. Gaius looked down at the bandage and let out a professional yet irate groan. Blood was beginning to strain the wrappings a bright red and Gaius hobbled past Arthur to grab a new bundle of bandage. Arthur watched in a sort of stunned horror as Gaius gingerly pulled off the blood-soaked bandage and he saw the sheer damage done to Merlin's leg.

Arthur gnashed his teeth and felt a powerful urge to find those responsible and rip them to shreds, even though Merlin had already deftly defeated them. The blood and bone and state of the leg enraged him more than he thought possible after years and years of witnessing violence and terrible injuries. He wanted those who had done such a terrible thing to suffer.

Merlin stirred fitfully once more, and Arthur's thoughts of revenge gave way to concern as he walked closer. Gaius finished wrapping the bandage and looked at the twisting of Merlin's face, the sweat beginning to run behind his ears and soaking to his scalp. He grunted in frustration. "Oh my boy…"

He looked up at Arthur. "Can you stay with him? I know something that can deaden the pain, but it's in a patch just outside the lower town. I don't want to leave him alone."

Arthur nodded. "Of course."

Gaius bustled out with an impressive speed and was quickly out the door, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone.

Arthur stared down at the other for a long time, not trusting himself to move. But then Merlin stirred, and Arthur immediately sat in the chair besides the cot, still warm from Gaius' presence. The skin between Merlin's eyes tightened with pair and, without being fully aware of it, Arthur took the other's hand in his. His heart picked up pace but Arthur ignored it, instead rubbing one thumb slowly against the back of Merlin's hand and smiling at how the strain on the other's face lessened slightly.

Merlin's fingers were limp, and one of them caught onto the band of material that was wound into the sleeve of Arthur's chainmail. Arthur stilled his motion and stared at Merlin's dirtied but still pale finger caught on the handkerchief that Gwen had tied on his chainmail before they'd left.

"It's not a favor," she said as she tied it on, head bowed to prevent him from seeing the worried tears, "it's a promise. You must promise to come back to me so you can give it back."

"I promise," Arthur said solemnly, taking the hand she'd tied the cloth on to tilt her face towards him.

"And if he doesn't," Merlin said, in his way that was both reassuringly and somewhat jocular, "I'll be there to protect him, Gwen. Don't worry."

Merlin of course didn't take into account that Gwen would worry about him too, the idiot. And Arthur, of course…

As he gently disengaged Merlin's fingers and wound them in his own, Arthur looked down at their clasped hands beside the bright fabric of Gwen's, and sighed. He'd known, although he'd never expressly told anyone, that he loved Gwen and Merlin the most out of anyone else in the world – perhaps even equally. Just in different ways.

Merlin moved closer to Arthur's warmth in his sleep and Arthur smiled, even as his heart pounded agonizingly quickly in his chest.

He'd always thought he'd been in love with Gwen.

Now he was no longer sure.

* * *

A/N: Now I am hurting both our main men simultaneously. Well, that's one way to get back into angst.

Thanks for reading, and please review! They make me happy!


	25. Poisoned Illusions

Greetings Readers! Here is the latest oneshot...I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Depressed!Merlin, slight drinking, slight swearing

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of its characters. (And it makes me weep)

* * *

Merlin was nowhere to be found.

Gwaine had looked up and down the castle in search of him, but he was nowhere. He asked anyone who stood still long enough if they had seen the king's manservant, but no one had. Arthur and Gwen had seemed perturbed at the news, but the visit of a diplomat distracted them from hunting Merlin down, and so Gwaine took on the task for himself.

He checked the tavern, more out of habit than out of any expectation of finding him there, and was shocked to hear that someone who looked very much like Merlin had come into the tavern earlier. The man had been almost sullen, purchasing a large jug of ale before leaving into the darkness of evening.

Sullenness did not sound like Merlin, but Gwaine was out of options, and he followed the direction of the barman's finger into the forest.

Gwaine heard the cracking of a flames and a dark mumbling before he saw the fire.

Merlin sat rigidly beside the flames, staring blearily and unblinkingly into its depths, his jacket in a heap beside him. He stopped muttering long enough to take a swig from the heavy clay jug. Merlin swayed dangerously forward, his forehead nearly touching the smoldering wood.

"Merlin!" Gwaine yelled, bursting out of the trees. "Be careful!"

The ale-sodden manservant pulled back from the flames complacently and looked at his friend in a dazed but irritated way. "What do you want?" he nearly slurred.

The hunched figure weaved slightly in the light of the flames, and Gwaine stared down at him. "You're drunk!"

"Does that surprise you?" Merlin hiccupped, somehow making the sound sharp and bitter. "Shocking that such a lightweight can manage to be such a millstone around your neck, isn't it?"

"Millstone around our-" For once, Gwaine was at a loss for words.

"Not good for much, am I?" Merlin snorted, "I can clean up and cook for all of you, but if it comes down to it, you can do without me."

"What?"

Merlin shrugged. "It's the truth." He took a sloppy swig from the jug, ale sloshing over the sides and soaking his face. His neckerchief absorbed the liquid and hung limply about his neck. With a detached care, Merlin unfastened the fold of material and stared at it for a moment before flinging it into the dying flames.

The sudden rush of fire sent Gwaine reeling back, although Merlin remained militantly in place. "Merlin, what's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Merlin said, "Why would you think anything's wrong?" He glared at the stone jug. "I finally am seeing things as they are for the first time."

Merlin's sluggish movements became rapid and nearly violent as he raised the mug of ale over his head and then sent it crashing down into the flames. Flames and alcohol and pottery shards flew in all directions, and Gwaine ducked, cursing in shock.

"Don't worry," Merlin grumbled, not taking his eyes from the flames, "I'll clean it up."

"You think that's what I'm worried about," Gwaine nearly yelled, "I'm more worried about you then some bloody alcohol, mate!"

If Merlin had been more sober, the impact of that might have been more humorous or hard-hitting. As it was, he weaved more from side and side and struggled to focus on Gwaine as he sat down. "Come on, Merlin," Gwaine continued, his voice becoming more pleading, "tell me what's happened. What are you doing here?"

"Is it so much that I want some time alone?" Merlin asked bitterly, staring at the flames, "Besides, I've been this way plenty of times before."

"Drunk?" Gwaine asked.

"Alone," Merlin replied flatly, "You know how often I risk my neck for you? How often I have to go through the same hell as you do when we fight? You know how terrifying it can be for me to see all that blood and feel all that pain?"

"Merlin-"

"It doesn't matter if you do," Merlin glared, and then hiccupped, "because you still leave me alone anyway. Everyone notices if Arthur is gone, or a knight is gone, and I understand that. Lot more important than an idiot manservant." He picked up a stick and began prodding the fire with it. "I just figured…I'd be missed a little. That … I would be looked for, or at least noticed that I was gone." He snorted bitterly, "But I was wrong, no one gives a d-"

"Merlin," Gwaine interrupted, forcing his friend to look at him, "we do care. You're important to us."

Merlin drunkenly shook his head and pulled free of Gwaine's grip. Gwaine continued, "Mate, I'm sorry. I wish – why didn't you tell us earlier?"

He looked over at his friend, only to see him slumped on his back, snoring lightly. Gwaine stared pensively at Merlin for a few moments before returning his gaze to the fire. He wished that he had the right words to say to Merlin, words that would make his friend see how wrong he was.

It was true in the heat of battle that they could lose track of Merlin like they would any other comrade, but that he could never be forgotten. That they felt in Merlin the presence of a brother, and his loss would be felt acutely. But he also wanted to say that he knew Merlin was far from weak…that although he would worry about Merlin when he was in danger, he never worried that his friend couldn't pull through it. For a reason, that he couldn't explain, he had the belief that Merlin, more than anyone, could emerge triumphant from any struggle or disaster. That Merlin was the strongest, best friend he knew.

He couldn't say of these things. Instead, he stoked the fire, fetched some water for the roaring headache he would have the next morning, and sat down beside his friend. Gwaine pulled off his long cape and draped it warmly over Merlin before folding his arms around his legs and settling down for the night.

He would be there when the fire burned into embers and when Merlin blinked blearily into wakefulness the next morning with a roaring headache and no memory of what he'd said. In the morning, he knew he still wouldn't have the words he wanted to say.

But he would still stay by Merlin, and show him that he was not alone.

* * *

A/N: And there you are. At least there was some Gwaine/Merlin friendship (I hope we get lots of that in the new season).

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	26. The Cure

Greetings Readers! Here's the latest oneshot - and it is pure fluffiness. PURE FLUFF. It's set in season 5, but there are no real spoilers.

This was inspired by a title prompt called "The Cure: A Fluffy Remedy for 5x05" from the Heart of Camelot website. There be a lot of good writers there, and right now, there is a sudden emergence of fluff!

I hope that you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

Gwen switched the folds of her gown away from her feet as she slowly came down the palace steps, raising up one hand to shield her eyes from the early afternoon sun. "Merlin?"

It had been far too long since the two of them had been able to spend any amount of time together, and Gwen decided to take advantage of the gloriously free afternoon to hunt down her friend and remedy the situation. For once, Arthur had given his manservant the afternoon off, and they hadn't seen him since the noon meal. Usually, Gwen would have been pleased that Merlin was getting a well-deserved break, but it was beyond frustrating that she couldn't find him.

He'd disappeared like magic.

A group of tittering kitchen maids had mentioned that they'd seen Merlin walking outside, their cheeks flushing bright red and their eyes sparkling as they spoke his name. Gwen had just barely managed to keep her grin to a polite smile, having to smother a laugh as she walked towards the castle doors. Merlin really had no idea.

Gwen knew, as she looked over the courtyard, that she had to keep moving, otherwise some well-meaning knight would insist on accompanying her, and that would ruin the time alone with Merlin. She decided to just start walk in any direction and just hope she'd find him, when she heard of a burst of children's giggles and applause. A warm smile tilted the corners of her lips, and she followed the sound of the laughter.

Peeking around the corner of a building, feeling a bit like a child herself, she saw a crowd of young ones sitting at the feet of a taller man. A taller man with dark hair, blue eyes, and a familiar red neckerchief. _Merlin._

The giggles and uproarious applause continued, and Gwen squinted against the brightness of the sun to see Merlin throwing something in the air. And then catching it. And then throwing it.

Merlin was juggling.

Gwen laughed out loud, the smile crinkling her entire face as she beamed. Merlin was just full of surprises. It would figure that, even on his day off, Merlin would be doing things for others. Once again, she wondered how her husband and so many of the knights could say that Merlin was clumsy; she'd like to see any of them pulling off such a feat.

The image of her brother trying to juggle shields as he was outfitted in all of his armor filled her mind, his clanking loud and cacophonous as he crashed to the ground. She positively snorted with laughter, drawing the attention of the young ones and their entertainer. Her cheeks flushed a bright red as all the children turned in her direction, the older ones dropping to their knees in a respectable bow while the littler ones jumped up and down with excitement. The queen was always very nice and so pretty, and maybe they could get her to play with them.

"Hello, Gwen," Merlin smiled at her, bending down to pick one of the balls that he'd dropped off the ground. "How are you?"

"Fine," Gwen smiled, feeling a little unsure of herself, "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Merlin laughed, and shook his head. "You're not interrupting! Come on over."

Some of the little girls ran over to Gwen and started tugging eagerly at her skirts with excitement that would have sent their parents scolding them had they been present. Gwen let them tug her over and she sat down in the midst of them, her dress pooling around her in flows of purple and silk. The children wasted no time in sitting on the loose fabric on the ground, and a particularly small girl plopped down in the middle of Gwen's lap.

"More, Merlin!" A little boy crowed, waving a wooden ball in the air, "More juggling!"

The children began bouncing up and down where they sat, and the little girl in Gwen's lap ended up with Gwen's tiara around her neck. Her lip wobbled as she looked up at Gwen, expecting to be scolded, but the queen only smiled down at her and adjusted the crown around her tiny head. Merlin smiled at the sight, fancy dresses and crowns or not, Gwen would always be Gwen. "All right," Merlin cried dramatically, holding out his hands to the sides, I shall now juggle. What should I juggle?"

Apples, and toys, and balls of yarn emerged from pockets and were eagerly shoved in his direction. Merlin scooped up a doll, two apples, and a ball of yarn before straightening up, grinning cheekily at all of them. And then he began to juggle.

Gwen watched, entranced as any of the children as the objects soared and made an arc in the air, silhouetted against the brightness of the sun. After setting up a steady rhythm, Merlin began to move around with the balls, ducking forward and backward, catching the objects behind his back and sending them flying forward. He moved with the fluidness of the wind as he bobbed and set the objects high into the air.

"I didn't know you juggled, Merlin," Gwen managed to say after a time.

Merlin quirked an eyebrow in a way that would make Gaius proud. "Always the tone of surprise. Sometimes I think you've been married too long – he's rubbing off on you."

Gwen burst out laughing and shook her head. "Not what I meant."

"Sure, your highness," Merlin snorted as he continued to juggle, bouncing the apple off his elbow so that it landed in one of the older girls' lap. She giggled very shrilly and turned a bright red, hiding her face in her apron.

The children's mothers, finishing up the afternoon's shopping in the courtyard bazaar, came over to collect their children from the group. They gave Merlin a warm smile as they collected their young ones, even those who fervently did not want to leave. One little boy even grabbed Merlin's leg so firmly that he sent all the balls Merlin had been juggling crashing to the ground.

The young boy's lip began to quiver, but Merlin simply laughed as he ruffled his hair, gently pushing him towards his mother. "It's okay, Thomas," he grinned, "I can teach you to juggle tomorrow." As the last of the children left, Merlin flopped down on the pile of hay next to Gwen, running one hand through his hair and exhaling deeply. Then he lay back in the hay, folding his arms behind his head, his sleeves rolling up and exposing his toned forearms. Gwen smiled down at him. A lot had changed since she'd met that boy in the stocks all those years ago. _Not just him either,_ she thought as she heard the rustle of her silk gown as she leaned back into her own pile of hay.

But he was still much the same that he had ever been; especially when he let his face relax and the tight worry lines between his eyes receded. His clothes, although they fit more snugly over the muscles his arms had developed, were even the same, much to her frustration. Year after year she'd tried to make him wear something else…but in the end, they were a part of Merlin as much as his blue eyes and bright laughter.

As she turned her gaze up to the blueness of the sky and the clouds, she remembered the trips they would sometimes take to the outskirts of the city, with Arthur and some of the knights, where they would just stare up into the heavens. As each member of the group slowly drifted off after a full picnic, Merlin would weave stories out of the windswept clouds with such clarity that Gwen could believe she could reach out and touch them. She missed those days, sometimes.

"Merlin?"

He cracked an eye open. "Yeah, Gwen."

Gwen's eyes sparkled mischeviously. "I don't know how to juggle."

Merlin looked at her a moment and then burst out laughing. "What, they never taught you that in queen training?" He shook his head ruefully, a cheeky grin lighting the corners of his eyes. "Guess that leaves it up to me."

Gwen reached over for a discarded apple as Merlin scooped up the balls he had brought down himself to the square. He dropped one of the balls in her lap and picked up the other two in his hands. "Are you ready to learn from the master?"

Gwen nodded solemnly, only just managing to keep the laughter back. "The student is ready."

~.~

If anyone were to be curious enough to search for the sound of laughter in the marketplace, they would see the queen and the king's manservant attempting to toss wooden balls into the air. They might have seen Gwen bonk Merlin on the head with a misplaced throw, only to see Merlin to retaliate with a handful of straw. By the time Arthur had figured out where his wife had gone, both queen and manservant looked a bit like ragamuffins, hay caught in hair and clothing.

Arthur took only a few moments to stare before launching at them with a fresh barrage of straw. He was the king, and he always won.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I love the idea of Merlin juggling to make a bunch of little kids happy. And I like stories with some Merlin and Gwen friendship going on!

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	27. Shirtless Jugglers and Drunken Knights

Greetings Readers! Here is the latest oneshot!

Warning: Spoilers up to 5x04, general silliness

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters.

* * *

When Gwaine wore that particular smirk, it could only mean trouble. Anytime that Gwaine had an overflowing abundance of alcohol, it could only lead to trouble.

So when Merlin found himself cornered at Gaius' table by Gwaine, who was bearing both that infamous smirk and an overflowing jug of ale, he knew that he was doomed.

"Merlin!" Gwaine boomed, abandoning his two-fisted grip on the jug to smack Merlin jovially between the shoulder blades, "Come on!"

Merlin nearly smacked head first into the stained wooden top of the table, pulling himself just out of the way of the curiously bubbling medicines he was tending. He straightened up, rubbing his shoulder blades as he laughed. "Where?"

"Where?" Gwaine asked with exuberance, gesturing wildly and sending the ale splashing in all directions, "Where not is the real question! And I know for a fact," Gwaine continued, wiggling his eyebrows, "that Gwen will be keeping the princess occupied tonight." Gwaine grinned rakishly as the tips of his friend's ears turned a bright red. "_All_ night."

Merlin covered his face with one hand and groaned. "Thanks, Gwaine, I really needed that image in my head."

A few weeks after Arthur and Gwen had gotten married, Merlin had entered their chambers in his usual fashion of not-knocking, only to be treated to a show that turned his ears a bright red for the rest of the day. The intense redness of his ears combined with Arthur's more stoic than usual expression led to general roars of laughter and ribbing from the knights, although Elyan held back, looking pained at the thought of his sister being involved in any marital activities.

Merlin knocked more often in the mornings now, although the rest of the time he just barged in.

"Come on, mate," Gwaine continued, needling, "we haven't done anything together that hasn't been work or cleaning up after her highness in weeks!"

Merlin grinned and looked over at Gaius, snoring lightly on his cot. "Okay."

"Let's go then!" Gwaine boomed in a manner that was unnecessarily loud given that there was a man sleeping in the room, and hauled Merlin bodily from the bench. Some bottles rocked back and forth dangerously and, as Gwaine's eyes were closed, Merlin's eyes flashed gold and the bottles righted themselves. Slinging an arm around Merlin's shoulders, Gwaine propelled them out of the room and into the hallway.

~.~

As the barmaid placed two mugs of ale in front of the two men, Merlin quirked an eyebrow at Gwaine. "What about that?" he asked, inclining his head towards the full flask Gwaine had brought.

Gwaine patted the flask proprietarily and grinned. "The night is young, my friend, and there is much more drinking to be done. Besides," he added as he picked up the mug and held it expectantly towards Merlin's, "you owe me a round."

Merlin quirked an eyebrow as he raised his mug up as well. "Why's that?" he asked as he clinked his mug against Gwaine's.

"You broke my heart," Gwaine said dramatically, placing his hand on his heart as his fringe swung into his face, causing several barmaids to squeal. "Alcohol is all that can take away the pain."

"How'd I break your heart?"

Gwaine looked at him very seriously. "You didn't hug me."

Merlin blinked. "Wait, what?"

"You almost die..._again_, mate," Gwaine drawled out, with just enough of a genuine glint of hurt to keep Merlin from laughing, "and I sit by you waiting for you to get better. And when I try to hug you...you just up and run away, off to save the day."

The barmaids were now looking at Merlin as though he eviscerated puppies for sport. Merlin nearly cringed under the glares and raised both eyebrows at Gwaine. "Well, that was only after you left me for _dead_ after we rescued you from Morgana."

Gwaine had guilt mixed with the laughter now in his eyes and as one both men got up to hug each other, the buzz of alcohol compelling them.

And then Gwaine spilled his ale on Merlin and it all went to hell.

~.~

Merlin hiccupped leisurely, and slouched against the log near the campfire, drowsily moving his leg away from the flames a second too late to keep it from getting burned. He yelped slightly and his hand ghosted down over the red skin. His eyes glinted in the glow of the campfire and as his palm fell away, the redness of the skin had receded. If Gwaine didn't know better, he might have thought the burn had totally disappeared.

He stared remorsefully at the dregs of ale at the bottom of his flask and took a healthy swig. He was far more concerned with the depressingly lower levels of alcohol than with strangely healing burns.

Merlin didn't seem too concerned himself with the possibly nonexistent burn, instead readjusting his scarf which hung, limp with spilled ale, on his bare chest. Despite their best intentions to dry the sodden shirt by the fire, they'd only succeeded in singing one of the sleeves completely off. And since not even Percival could pull off the one-sleeved tunic (despite his previous success with sleeveless suits of chainmail) they'd given up the whole thing as a bad job and just tossed it into the fire. Both had watched with blurry eyed interests at the odd sparks of color that emitted from the flames before turning back to their cups.

Gwaine glared slightly at Merlin's bare and slightly built chest, it being the cause of their hasty ejection from the third tavern they'd gone to. How was he to know that spilling ale all over Merlin's shirt would lead to some enthusiastic girl pulling it off to launder it in an astonishingly helpful way for a stranger? And then a series of increasingly enthusiastic girls had come over to both of them for some reason - some batted their eyes at Gwaine but the rest seemed to be trying to help Merlin in his shirtless state by covering as much of the bare chest as they could.

It was a nice thing to do, and a shame that they'd managed to knock over all of the glasses on the counter, two stools, and an older gentleman at the end of the bar who not only had a bad hip but was the great grandfather of the tavern keeper. They'd been asked to leave, although Gwaine had trouble hearing the words through the dirt that had lodged in his ears after he'd been thrown out the door.

"Can you juggle?"

Gwaine shook his head slowly to clear it before looking at Merlin, who was grinning largely, the tips of his lips nearly meeting his ears. He still hadn't let go of his mug, but his other hand was clutching three dates in his long fingers.

"Nah, mate," Gwaine barked lazily, "and bet you can't either."

"Can too," Merlin insisted, "Watch!"

And without preamble Merlin flung his empty mug to the side and began to toss the dates in a smooth arc above his head. At first, he sent the three dates in a smooth cycle between his two hands, only glancing at the dates occasionally, preferring to grin at Gwaine in a drunken and thoroughly smug way. The dates were being to make an odd sucking noise as the juice spread stickily across his palms when Merlin decided to juggle with only one hand. That was it was much easier for him to swipe Gwaine's mug and gulp the last dregs of ale.

"Hey!" Gwaine shouted petulantly, but Merlin merely shot him a winning smile that was sagging slightly at the edges before heaving the mug into the air and sending the dates after them. His eyes gleamed from the firelight as he heaved the four objects high into the air, Gwaine watching with interest and a small degree of envy.

"I could do that!"

Gwaine picked up two waterskins and an apple and began trying to toss them into the air. He did a fair job with the two waterskins, but the apple proved to be one item too many. With a squawk of concern for the apple that had begun to roll far too close to the fire, Gwaine sprung forward only to trip and fall backwards. While on his knees.

Merlin laughed and straightened up, apple clutched in one hand. Gwaine growled. "Give 'at back!"

"Gotta catch it first," Merlin slurred, grinning, and with that he got to his feet and darted beyond Gwaine's reach, throwing the apple to an unnecessarily large height in the air. Gwaine, never one to back down from a challenge, got to his feet.

And Merlin, who was notorious for fits of clumsiness on the best of days, somehow was managing to run backwards and juggle at the same time. His eyes somehow glowing from the fire that was twenty feet away, he grinned as he ducked and weaved about, evading Gwaine. No matter how Gwaine tried, he could never grab the apple, which at times seemed to hover above their heads in a way that defied gravity.

Their roars of laughter and loud curses as they tripped in the grass echoed in the clearing for most of the night.

~.~

Gwaine looked up blearily, the stirrings of a hangover begin to pulse with a dull familiarity at the front of his skull. He was wearing all his clothes, which was often a good sign, although the absence of a lovely female was somewhat disappointing. He cleared his throat and worked his tongue about to loosen it.

He pulled up and stretched his arms, sighing with satisfaction as his shoulders popped. As he glanced across the plumes of smoke of the dying campfire, he saw Merlin stretched out on the grass, shirt still off, snoring with his hand still clutching the apple.

Gwaine smirked and made his way silently over to his sleeping friend. He waved one hand in front of Merlin's face to make sure he was asleep before slyly prying open Merlin's fist to grab the apple.

The knight flopped down on the grass to watch the first streams of the sunrise peaking over the treetops. He took a healthy bite of his apple, and looked down at Merlin. "You know," he said conversationally through a mouthful of apple, "it's a good thing I knew about your magic. I don't know how much alcohol I'd have to drink to think things were flying."

Merlin didn't stir but a smile tilted his lips. Gwaine took another crunch of his apple, and grinned at the start of a new day.

* * *

A/N: Who saw that last line of Gwaine's coming? LOL

I hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!


	28. Bitter Tastes and Bitter Truths

Greetings Readers! Here's the next oneshot!

This one is for Vuurvlieg, who not only gave me the inspiration for writing this but also was incredibly patient in waiting for me to write it! I was asked RIGHT after this episode aired...slight delay. LOL.

I hope you enjoy it, and Vuurvlieg especially!

Warning: Slight language, spoilers for 5x07

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

The wine was bitter and Arthur nearly put his goblet down.

Looking up into the face of his smiling queen made him stop in his tracks. The smile was so contented, so cheerful, that it made his heart stop in his chest. Gwen had been so unhappy ever since the Dark Tower, like a shadow of herself from the moment her brother had breathed his last. She had tried to smile, tried to keep him from worrying, but it was no good. It had been so long since he had seen her look so happy.

The last thing he wanted to do was to ruin that beautiful smile by complaining that the wine she'd chosen was a bad vintage. Instead he swallowed the gulp of wine manfully and returned the goblet to the table, smiling at her.

And then everything began to blur.

Every muscle, every bone, every vein ached with an unbearable weight, and he felt his limbs sagging to the ground as his body settled uncomfortably into the contours of the chair. There was more wrong with the wine then the vintage, his increasingly sluggish thoughts declared, and then he settled on the only possible cause. _Poison._

His mind attempted to race despite his listless thoughts, his heart pounding as he willed his hands to shove the wine off the table, to signal to Gwen that he needed help. But all his fingers could manage was a desperate scrabbling across the table and his shirt as the energy leeched from his bones.

_Gwen,_ he thought desperately, in the vain hope that she could understand his thoughts, _don't touch the wine, don't…_

But then his thoughts faded away into a haze of fatigue and dawning pain, and he could just watching through sagging eyelids as his queen drew closer. In the unclearness of his mind, he could almost see what looked like a cruel smile tilting at her lips as she bent down. But that must have been the poison's influence…

There was a dull thud on the table and a quiet whisper of skirts towards the door, which swung quietly on his hinges before giving way to silence. Arthur strained to open his eyes, but could not, tried to reach towards the table and get a grip on reality but was unable to.

The door slammed open unceremoniously, and Arthur heard the horrified "Arthur" that Merlin croaked out (it could only be Merlin, if not for the voice than for the fact that he was the only one who slammed open the king's bedchamber door) before all was swallowed up into darkness.

~.~

Arthur knew about death. As a warrior trained to kill practically since birth, he knew full well how a certain amount of force could easily end the intake of breath permanently. The copper smell of the lifeblood of his fallen comrades had burned into his nose more than a few times since he had reached the tender age necessary to allow him into battle. He'd received enough wounds, near-fatal or otherwise, to understand the sense of mortality.

That being thought, he had never imagined such a quiet death. In his more resigned dreams, he could envision a jarring fall, the tearing of flesh and bone, the burn of his blood spewing forth, hot and red and terrible. He had considered a silent passing, his limbs hanging limply even as they were strong with muscle and youth and power. It was a disconcerting thing to be felled by an unknown, unseen enermy rather than facing down his murderer with defiance in his eyes.

Maybe that was the reason that he didn't succumb totally to the pull of the poison. Everything was darkness and stillness, and there was a dull permanence of aching pain throughout his body. But he could hear, occasionally pulling free of the stupor of the poison enough to try and figure out what was happening.

The low hum of Gaius' tone was relatively constant, punctuated by the clinking of bottles. Occasionally he heard frightened sniffs from Guinevere that choked the sweet sound of her voice. Otherwise, there was mostly silence, and Arthur attempted to distract himself from the ever-present, pulsing pain by trying to imagine what had happened…and what he would do when he was cured.

Never did he allow his mind consciously dwell on the possibility that the cure was impossible.

~.~

The quiet was broken some time later when Arthur pulled himself from the darkness to hear a cluster of voices in the hallway, sounding confused, hurt, and frustrated. Following a loud shushing which had probably come from Gaius, the shuffling of feet could be heard and the murmur of voices continued, although more quietly and with less heat. Concentrating on the different sounds, Arthur could tell that his closest Knights were around his bed, as was Gaius and his wife…but no Merlin.

There was a brief blossoming of hurt at the thought of Merlin not being there that surpassed the waves of pain flooding through his body. Although he automatically tried to dismiss the feeling of abandonment, laughing that the idiot was probably getting drunk off his arse, he didn't believe it. Besides, it might have felt worse if he had.

After a few minutes the room grew nearly silent once more, and Arthur felt shocked that they would leave a poisoned king so alone and vulnerable. But then, the side of the bed sagged beneath a pair of elbows and a conflicted sigh reached his ears. The sigh was too masculine to be Guinevere and too young to be Gaius, but Arthur couldn't figure out anymore than that.

And then the person spoke.

"I wish I could blame you," the voice said, its usual cockiness, "but it's not your fault. I just wish…" Gwaine took his elbows off the side of the bed and there came a sound as though he was knotting his fist in his hair. "I like you mate, for all your being a stuck-up, pompous princess sometimes, but I don't think I belong here. Not now." There was a grunt of irritation. "But I promised him. I promised I would look out for you. That's the only bloody reason I'm not with him right now, or getting him out, or something!"

The bedpost was solid, and the entire bed shook as Gwaine punched it with all his might before cursing vehemently. "He didn't think it was safe…he didn't know who to trust. At least he trusts me." He sighed, "So you're stuck with me, Arthur. At least until we get you better and him cleared – because I'm not breaking that promise. Never."

Arthur tried to clear his head enough to figure out what Gwaine was talking about. The knight kept mentioning a "he" but it was impossible to muster up the concentration he needed to determine what was going on. _Who would Gwaine do anything for? Who would he show that much respect for?_

He felt the answer within his grasp, and was reaching for it when a jolt of sharp pain ran through him. Almost seeing the elusive answer fade from his fingertips, Arthur let the waves of unconsciousness bury him.

~.~

The next time he was aware of what was happening, his eyes were able to slide open a hair.

Sadly, it wasn't enough to use to communicate with the others in the room. But at least now he could see Guinevere's beautiful face and Leon, loyal as ever but worried, sitting beside his bed. Again, it would have felt better to have Merlin sitting beside them as well. Gwen needed more than Arthur's most trusted knight, she needed Merlin there too – he was her friend as well as Arthur's, after all.

The sight of her tears nearly broke his heart and he yearned to gain the strength to raise up his hand to brush the tears away. Even then he felt pride blossom inside at the faith that the knights had in Gwen, and at the struggling but straight posture she took at listening to their loyalty.

"Thank you, Leon," her voice quavered despite her smile, and she turned back to gaze at her husband. Arthur would have given anything to smile reassuringly at her, but the tendrils of darkness were beginning to drag at his consciousness and his eyelids were beginning to sag. In his desperation to see as much of her face as he could, he strained to make out her expression. His limited vision began to blur, but his heart thudded at what appeared to be a small but malicious smirk tearing at the corners of her mouth.

_It wasn't real,_ he reminded himself weakly as the undertow pulled him under, _you just misunderstood…_

~.~

There was the loud clanging of the warning bell outside the castle, but Arthur barely noticed it. Loud yells and gasps filled the suddenly dark and windy courtyard, but Arthur was unaware. Sound and sliver of sight all were swallowed up and overwhelmed by … something.

Arthur didn't know what it was exactly. It started with a warm pressure on his chest that oddly enough elicited no pain. The pressure lingered and lingered and then, with an explosion that was all light and sound and breath and air and life, spread out to every part of his body.

The pain vanished.

The stiffness vanished.

The confusion and fear vanished.

He could breathe. And, inexplicably, everything felt right.

He had been saved.

~.~

When he finally awoke, he could see his men standing around and Gwen hovering near the head of his bed, happiness in her face, but worry and latent fear in the corners of her eyes. "Arthur!" she burst out and leaned towards him.

"My lady," Gaius cautioned, stepping forward to prevent from touching him, "it's best to keep away for now. The king has recovered but he is still very weak. That poison caused pain everywhere, and his skin should be very tender."

Gwen pulled back her hand and bit her lip guiltily. Arthur reached forward, secretly gritting his teeth, as he stretched forward to cover her hand with his own. "It's all right," he said in as firm a voice as he could manage, "I'm so glad to see you."

He craned his neck to see as many of the rest of them as he could and smiled weakly. "All of you." His eyes tracked over Gaius, Leon, Gwaine, Percival, Gwen… He frowned. "Wait, where's Merlin?"

Suddenly, no one seemed to know where to look – all except Gwaine, who continued to regard the king with a firm but almost unhappy gaze. "That idiot," Arthur muttered, without heat but with a twinge of hurt at the back of the words, "I can't believe that he wouldn't come to see if I was all right." He looked over at Gaius. "Where is he?"

Leon took it upon himself to speak. "He's," he hesitated, "in the dungeon, sire."

Arthur looked at him. And then blinked. And then burst out in a roar of laughter. "That really isn't funny," he snorted, "but after days of not being able to laugh I needed that. Now really," he smiled in a benevolent but impatient fashion, "where is Merlin?"

More grimacing and shuffling of feet, and then Gwaine spoke up in a steady voice. "He's in the dungeon," he replied, "after being arrested for poisoning you."

Arthur blinked once, then twice.

"What?!"

~.~

"Why would you do that?" Arthur asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose fervently in order to dispel the headache forming there. Looking at the tears in Gwen's eyes brimming and overflowing, he bit back the sharpness that would normally have accompanied such a question.

The two were alone in their chambers, Gwen standing near him while Arthur, bundled up in a blanket, was situated in his usual chair and staring at the table where he'd been poisoned. Once he'd discovered that Merlin had been thrown into the dungeon for real, he had quickly sent Gwaine and Gaius down to let him out and send him up. Of all the idiotic things to believe…Merlin would never do such a thing like that to him. Arthur trusted the not-really-an-idiot with his life, and knew without a doubt that the culprit must have been elsewhere.

Gwen's fingers tightened in the material of her gown and her red eyes looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Arthur…I just…I panicked," she nearly whimpered, "it just…you were hurt! And…all the evidence seemed to point at Merlin being the culprit!" She blinked back tears. "I didn't want to believe it, I really didn't, but…"

Arthur took a deep breath and reminded himself that seeing him nearly dead probably had affected Gwen's usually acute reasoning. He himself would have probably flown into a vengeful rage if he had ever seen Gwen in that same position, never mind the consequences. But to accuse Merlin…he and Gwen had been friends even before Merlin and Arthur had even spoke civilly to one another. It just didn't make sense.

"I know I need to apologize to him," Gwen said, a weak smile forming through the trembling of her lips, "but I've been distracted. I'm just so happy you're alive!" A determined look entered her eye. "But first," she said with a firm countenance, "I need to find the real culprit, and clear Merlin's name for good."

Arthur thought he saw a peculiar glint in her gaze when she mentioned their friend's name, but assumed it was due to the still slight haziness of his vision. Besides, the Gwen he knew always felt guilty for bad things that happened to her friends, even when they were not her fault or caused on purpose.

With a quick peck on the cheek, Gwen strode out into the hallway, her skirts billowing behind her, whispering on the ground. She turned and vanished out of sight, and Arthur sagged slightly backward in his chair, feeling drained already.

But then Merlin arrived in the door.

The pure joy and relief in his manservant/best friend's face brought such a gladdening blow to his heart that it was almost humbling. For a moment, the two just stared at each other, both with relief in their gazes. Merlin, for the fact that his king and friend had survived his poisoning, and Arthur, that Merlin bore no bruises or signs of ill treatment from his sojourn in the dungeon. He hoped that this was due to the fact that no one could truly believe that Merlin would ever mean him harm. Ever.

There were no flowery words. There was no need.

In the back of his mind, Arthur wondered about how talkative Gwen had been, compared to how silent Merlin was. Typically, the two were so similar in how they dealt with stress and grief, and it seemed odd that Gwen would be so effusive in the time of difficulty. Merlin's eyes were open and honest and easy to read, whereas Arthur still puzzled over the glints in Gwen's eyes.

He shook his head. He was thinking nonsense.

"Merlin," he greeted.

But in the back of his mind, he wondered…

* * *

A/N: There it is! I hope you liked it!

I have a question: this collection is starting to get a bit long. Should I continue adding oneshots to this collection or should I start a new one? I don't want it to become so long and to become daunting. I welcome your thoughts!

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy! :D


	29. Changes

Greetings Readers! Merry Christmas!

I hope you enjoy this oneshot. I wrote it for a friend for Christmas, and thought I would post it here. Cheers!

Warning: Spoilers up to 5x10, some violence, some language

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters. (However I now own the first three seasons. Merry Christmas to me!)

* * *

Merlin's naming of Court Sorcerer was meant to be a secret. Naturally, the whole castle knew within hours.

In a way, they knew it even before Arthur had come to that conclusion, but the whispers had begun even before Arthur had sequestered himself in the throne room and council, with strict orders that all of the servants leave. They all thanked the heavens that the king remained unaware of the cracks in the ceilings or the slightly ajar windows; they were as good as keyholes to listen at.

Arthur turned to face his council as he stood behind his chair, feeling the breath of air on his arms as his cape swirled obligingly behind him. He and Gwen debated over what he would wear to this meeting, so whether he should enter the conversation as man-to-man with his council members or as their king, handing down a command that not to be challenged. In the end, it had been decided that Arthur would war his cape but not the chainmail, although Gwen's lips had quirked when she voiced the opinion that the cape might be some sort of security blanket.

Arthur had come to the conclusion that his wife had been spending too much time around his best friend/former manservant/future possible Court Sorcerer. If Merlin had been around, Arthur might have diffused some of his anxiety by yelling at the man for having so many bloody titles. But he'd been more or less sequestered with Gaius or amongst the townspeople since the Incident – not the same as the Magic Reveal but still enough to earn its own capital letter – and so Arthur hadn't seen much of him.

"Gentlemen," he began, clearing his throat officially, "I called you here to discuss the certain event that happened last week."

The group of men blinked politely at him for a moment before Geoffrey dryly spoke up. "You mean the magical incident, sire?"  
Arthur began to wonder why he bothered talking around it, as all of them in the room had been privy to Merlin's revealing of his magic. Of all the times to try and assassinate a king, storming him in the middle of a council meeting surrounding by councilmen, knights, and guards (useless though they were) seemed a poor idea. Arthur regrouped himself and said, more firmly, "Yes, I do. Since you're all aware of the situation, I want to discuss the laws banning magic," he paused, bracing himself for the response he was about to receive, "and their repealing."  
If he had been expecting a shocked response from the men sitting around the table, he would have been sorely disappointed. Actually, he was more puzzled as he looked carefully at the men's expressions, which ranged from resigned to intrigued to slightly disgruntled. "Your thoughts?" he asked, his eyes lingering on Gante, who was bearing the most perturbed expression of the group.

The men retreated into their minds to consider the question for a few agonizing moments, during which Arthur's fingers most assuredly did not twist in the hem of his cape. When someone finally spoke up, it was Geoffrey again. "I've spent years with the history of the kingdom, your highness, and I've seen the pain that sorcery has brought to Camelot – as well as the struggles it's been put through by nonmagical hands. I've seen how magic is in the very thread of this land, and how it will likely be here long after we're gone. It is a part of this land, and it deserves its freedom." His eyes crinkled with wry amusement, and Arthur's heart lightened at the sight. "Besides, this will give that manservant of yours a chance to fix all of my hard work he keeps destroying in the attempt to hide his magic from me."

Arthur had to bite back a laugh, even with the prickle of the newly scabbed wound of Merlin's secret-keeping. He looked apprehensively at Gante, who was clearing his throat pointedly. "Your highness, your father spent your entire life upholding these laws you are so eager to tear down." He looked around at the others. "We have seen the blood spilled by magic, all of us, and all of Camelot has suffered through Morgana's assaults."  
It was a struggle to suppress the wince Arthur felt at that statement – the councilman had managed to hit two of Arthur's sorest points with disturbing ease.

"However," Gante continued, "I trust your judgment, your highness, you have never steered us astray. I am uneasy, I admit, but I will stand by you," the old man pushed up from his seat and stood as he addressed his king, "in your decision. As we all will."  
As the rest of the men stood in solidarity, Arthur's jaw did not drop in unkingly surprise. But it was a near thing.

~.~

Hunith felt her jaw hanging slack and looked down to where the tea had pooled around her broken cup on the dirt floor. She flexed the numbness of her fingers experimentally and stooped down to clear up the tea, starting at the coolness of the liquid. She had remembered the tea being hot.  
She gathered the broken fragments of the cup in her palm, her mind struggling to recall what had happened. The village outside her hut seemed a bit louder than usual, and she unconsciously began to listen.

"Can ye believe it?"

"Aye, I can. There always seemed something different about him. Nothing dangerous, mind."

"But of all the fool places to go – I thought the lad had more sense than to go-"

"It is true, then?" A new voice piped up, "It's Hunith's boy?"

Hunith remembered, and the fragments fell back to the floor with another crash. The mail had been a little late that day, and she had been frustrated that news from Merlin would be coming later and worry that the young man who delivered the mail might be having troubles with his chronically near-lame horse. But then she had heard the frenetic galloping of an approaching horse and begun to come outside when she heard the eager, blurred gossip.

"Magic…Camelot…the king…servant…named Merlin."

Hunith's mouth had begun to sag open and her grip tightened on the handle of her cup.

"Magic in Camelot?" A woman responded, "Doesn't he know that he could be killed?"

"What if he's been already?" Another squawked.

That was when the cup had dropped.

Frightened tears brimmed in Hunith's eyes as she glanced rapidly around for her cloak and traveling shoes. Her mind settled on every moment that she had seen her son and Arthur together, she had seen the friendship and the brotherhood between them. She couldn't bring herself to believe that Arthur would forsake those bonds she had seen so clearly.

But still…she had seen the destruction that anger and bitterness and fractured trust could wreak upon relationships. The sheer drama that existed in a small village at times could be quite shocking, but she had grown accustomed to it. So as much as she hoped and prayed that Arthur would accept her son for the sake of their friendship, if not for the times that Merlin had selflessly saved the king's life, her motherly protectiveness would not allow her to wait helplessly to hear what would happen.

She was leaving for Camelot. And she was leaving now.

When one of her closest friends finally had the presence of mind to check in on Hunith, she found nothing but an empty cloak rack, loose ropes where the village's oldest nag had been tied, and a pot of cooling tea on the tabletop.

~.~

Gwen sat in the chambers she shared with Arthur, toying uneasily with the hem of her sleeve. She had wanted to join Arthur in the council meeting, but the two of them had decided that having the queen-who-was-once-a-servant in on the meeting where they were about to make another major overhaul to the kingdom's tradition might not be the best idea, regardless of how much respect they had for her.

That was the official, spoken reason for why she remained in their chambers. The unofficial reason, that both had seen in the other's eyes, was that Merlin would come back and give Gwen the chance to speak with him. Ever since the Incident, they had seen very little of him, and Gwen worried. Arthur worried too, but he would be hard pressed to admit it

In a political mindset, Merlin's separating himself for the moment from Arthur was a sound idea – it took away the possibility of rumors that he was unfairly influencing Arthur's decisions, either through simple words or through sorcery.  
_I'm not a sorcerer, I'm a warlock_.

Gwen got up from her chair and walked over to the window and stared outside into the courtyard. Things were progressing outside as they usually did, but Gwen could tell that people were stopping more often to talk with one another, making more frenzied gestures with their hands as they spoke. As much as Arthur might hope to keep the events of what had happened the week before under wraps, Gwen knew better than to hope for such things. As a former servant, she knew how quickly and efficiently rumors could travel, and suspected that even the lower town knew of what had happened by now.

She looked down at the stairs and swallowed hard, remembering how she had once sprinted down them, wailing as she looked down at her father's corpse as the guards took him away. The tears were as bitter in her eyes as they had been back then, and she wiped them away impatiently as she tried to clear her mind.  
_  
My father died because of sorcery._

Although that wasn't really true and Gwen knew it. It was Uther's fear of sorcery that had led to her father's death, as well as his foolhardiness in getting involved with a sorcery. That impulse to make decisions without considering the consequences seemed to have been genetic between father and son.

The thought of Elyan didn't do anything to abate her tears and she tried to swing her mind around to something else. Merlin. Her friend Merlin. Her friend Merlin who protected her husband and herself with his very life.

Her friend Merlin who protected her husband and herself with his very life using magic.

The very word magic held a frisson of fear and confusion as she thought it, as that reaction had been taught religiously to all children within Camelot's walls, regardless of their rank, gender, or lot in life. It was something they were going to have to fight tooth and nail.

Because things had to change.

Gwen had seen the pain that sorcery had caused, had felt the sharp pang of seeing her once close friend turn bitter and vindictive and wreak pain upon her former home. It was that Morgana who had chased her during her exile from Camelot and turned her into a deer, that Morgana who had nearly killed her with the sword, that Morgana who had killed her brother in absentia, that Morgana who had turned her free will into nothing more than a pair of marionette strings.

But that wasn't her magic. That was her hate, and her bitterness, and her feeling of betrayal. It was her anger at having to stifle who she really was.  
Gwen put down her crown and sighed. Merlin would never do that…but it wasn't fair to ask him to stifle who he was, anymore than he already had. He was proof, beyond all others, that magic wasn't evil. It couldn't be evil if Merlin had it. Merlin had been forced to make terrible, bloody decisions, but she could see the pain in his eyes for those decisions and she could feel the core of love that resided in him even at the darkest moments.

"Merlin has magic," she whispered to herself, and felt the normal pang that the word 'magic' brought. But it was less intense than she was used to. Because magic was the poultice that saved her father's life. Magic was the old man who swooped in to save her life. Magic was that which changed her back into a human.

Magic was Merlin.

And she would do anything for Merlin. That was what friends did.

~.~

Merlin had stayed in Gaius' chambers pretty constantly after the Incident, partly to help Gaius, partly to keep from appearing to unfairly influence Arthur, but mostly because he was afraid.

He wasn't sure what world would greet him once he left the familiar security of Gaius' chambers, the chambers that had seen his practicing magic and had kept his secret. The other walls of the castle and even of the village had not seen his magic in any other way other than clandestine or hidden in whispers or cupped palms. And the people had never seen it at all, at least not knowledgeably, in any way that didn't bring blood and pain and suffering. They did not know of the magic that had protected Arthur, that had slain the beasts that would attack him, that conquered the illnesses that would have slain them all. All they knew was fear and executions and death. What would the people say when they saw him wandering about the castle or in the village?

Would they thank him? Would they hate him? Would they come after him with harder, heavier things than the vegetables they had gleefully pelted him with when he was young, naïve, and in the stocks?

Worse…would they fear him?

He didn't know if he could take their fear. He could barely swallow or breathe when he thought of the mingled confusion, shock, and betrayal in Arthur's face once the adrenaline of the near attack had faded away. And even that was preferable to the anger and betrayal in Arthur's face at the beginning of the Incident.

He snuck out of the chambers and made his way towards the kitchen, figuring that small steps were necessary if he were to actually venture beyond his rooms on a regular basis. It certainly helped that he was more than a little hungry. That didn't prevent him from flinching on occasion when he heard footsteps or the murmur of voices in the corridors.

It was almost laughable. He had faced down Nimueh and Edwin and Agravaine, and any number of bloodthirsty entities out to destroy Camelot or Arthur, but he balked at the thought of walking among the normal people of Camelot. It wasn't so much the fear of what they could do to him, but the fear of how they would react to him.

He was the same as always, if not more so. But he didn't know if others would see it.

The normal bustle of the kitchen was a balm to his raw nerves, and he had to bite back a smile at the familiar scolding of the cook. He attempted to slip quietly into the kitchen without drawing attention to himself, but promptly tripped over a pile of dirty pots on the floor. He winced at the cacophonous clatter and looked up at the others, who had all frozen to look at him. Some things never changed.

"You better not be messing around in my kitchen, boy!" The cook barked, and Merlin could have kissed her. At least one person wouldn't treat him differently.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, and he bent over to pick up the scattered dishes, missing the slight gasps of delight behind him as he did so. One of the kitchen maids came over to where he was kneeling, scooping up two cups and a saucer before smiling at him. She blushed at the tentative smile he gave her and managed to put the dishes on the counter before she started breathing heavily. The smooth brushing of shoe leather against the stone floor signaled the approach of the other girls, who bent down near him to help clear away the dishes. Two of the older servants stood near the stove with bitter expressions as though they'd been forced to test the cook's famous lemonade before the sugar had been added.

"Are you all right?" One of his helpers asked shyly as she placed the three saucers on the counter.

"Yes," Merlin said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Sorry about that."

"Oh, it's no trouble," she said, moving a little closer as his courage grew, "is it true what they say?"

"That?"

Another girl rolled her eyes. "That you're magic!"

Two of the kitchen maids gasped at her forwardness, and the remainder leaned forward with interest. Merlin only managed a nod.

"'Tisn't natural," one of the sour-faced women by the oven hissed, only to get glares from the other kitchen maids. The woman blanched mildly at the glares before sweeping out of the kitchen with indignation.

"You mustn't judge her too harshly," one of the quieter maids ventured to Merlin, "she lost her only son in that magical plague that was in the water. She rather hates the word magic, now."

"She's not the only one," Merlin muttered mostly under his breath, "and I can't blame her for fearing magic when all she has seen is its bad side. But it can do so much good."

"Really?"

Merlin cast a glance over at the cook who was red-faced but didn't look like she was reaching for a pot or pan to throw which was always a good sign. He held out his hand and, as his eyes glowed gold, he brandished his fingers towards the crockery, more out of a desire to show off rather than necessity. The dishes glowed slightly before reposing on the counter, sparkling clean.

The girls oohed appreciatively and, over their heads, Merlin could see the cook giving him a grudgingly admiring nod. The grin that pulled on his lips was genuine and some of the girls flushed brightly in response.

One of the bolder girls sidled closer and nearly leered up at him. "What else can you do with your magic?" she asked suggestively, her eyes skimming down his chest appreciatively.

Merlin blushed so hard that even his ears turned red.

~.~

At the moment, Hunith wished that she had more of a selfish disposition. She had grabbed the horse she had to get to Camelot because it was the slowest, oldest horse they had, and the one least likely to be used should anyone be plowing or needing to rush a sick child to the nearest village with a physician. It was a noble action, to be sure, but also meant that she had to stop halfway to Camelot because the horse sorely needed a rest.  
To be fair, she needed the rest as well, and her stomach had grumbled before she had gotten very far from Ealdor, protesting the fact that she had not even swallowed a cup of tea before embarking on her journey. So she found herself sitting in a tavern run by an amiable, plump woman, drinking tea cautiously out of a beer tankard and poking feebly at a fine loaf of bread that her stomach, as hungry as she was, was not allowing her to eat because of her nerves.

"You all right, ma'am?" The barmaid asked, swiping the relatively clean although somewhat sticky counter with a cloth.

"Fine," Hunith nodded with an attempt at a smile. It didn't feel particularly genuine, but was apparently enough for the barmaid to send her a cheery grin in return before stooping back to her work.

Everything will be all right, Hunith assured herself, taking a fortifying gulp of tea and praying that her stomach would not reject it, Merlin will be all right. He won't d-

Her mind froze at the thought and she took another gulp of tea to distract herself.

Another form of distraction came in the form of two burly men who came to sit at the bar, dropping their arms on the bar with such force that it shook, causing Hunith to nearly drop her tea. "Mary!" The taller of the two bellowed, thumping the bar twice more for good measure, "Come over and give us some ale, there's a good lass!"

"Bit early in the day for ale, isn't it?" Mary asked wryly, although she bent obligingly by the bar to fetch the ale, "Even for you?"

"It's worth celebrating, innit, though?" The taller boomed, "That nonsense on killin' magic folk is about to be at an end! Heard it straight from my son's girl who works in the castle."

"They're going to allow magic again?" Mary probed, pouring the ale into two tankards.

"Aye," the man grinned, "and it's about bleeding time!"

The shorter man snorted as he picked up his tankard. "Dun believe it."

"What?"

"Dun believe that the king's gonna let magic back in," he replied, glaring at the ale as though it had done him an injustice, "never trust a Pendragon."

"What you think he's doing then?" The taller man argued.

The shorter took a swig of ale. "Tricking 'em," he said, wiping the ale from his mouth with his forearm, "what better way to get rid o' all the magic doers than to make them come to Camelot for some demonstration? Cut 'em down all at once."

Hunith's face became deathly pale and the tankard of tea shook in her hands.

The taller glared at him. "That's nonsense and you know it, you idiot. He'd even kill the man who saved his life?"

"Wouldn't be the first time a Pendragon did something like that."

The two began bickering in a fashion that made Hunith believe it was something of a normal occurrence between the two of them. She might have smiled at the similarity between her son and Arthur if she'd felt like smiling…or if the comparison would have made her happy rather than making the fear pool at her stomach.

A plate of cheese slid in front of her and she looked up to see Mary smiling kindly down at her. "Eat, it'll help to have something in your stomach." Hunith smiled weakly and picked up a piece of cheese as Mary drew a stool up to her side of the bar and sat down. "Don't you pay any mind to what they're saying," Mary said, "it'll make you sick. To think of such a thing." She shook her head. "Not that the king would do such a thing."

"What makes you so sure?" Hunith asked curiously.

Mary laughed, a big, amused sound. "Because I've seen the two of them. In this very bar. If the king hadn't told me who he was, I'd have never believed it. The two of them looked like friends – I'd have even called them brothers if they hadn't looked so different. The king would no sooner kill that man than he would rip out his own heart; because he's wise enough to see how lucky he is to have him." She shook her head ruefully. "Especially since the lad saved his life. And probably more than once if those levitating plates I saw here that day are any indication."

"Floating plates?" Hunith squawked, laughing, "he hadn't done that in years-" Then she clapped her hand on her mouth in shock at what she'd revealed.

Mary simply winked at her, woman-to-woman, and got up to serve the next customer. "It'll be just fine."

~.~

Gwen felt a strange smile twist her face as she looked at the vase of flowers on the nightstand – one of the few pieces of pottery that had survived the Incident. The flowers seemed to take forever to wilt, but it wasn't until a week had passed that Gwen had noticed that the beads of dew had never left the edges of the petals. As she tentatively and tenderly brushed the blooms, they felt as fresh and new as though they were still growing from the ground.

It was then that she remembered Merlin's eyes glowing a brisk gold before he left the room, after Arthur had stormed out. She had walked over to Merlin and hugged him tightly, saying more with the gesture than she could with words. I don't understand, Merlin, but it doesn't matter. You're my friend no matter what.

Gwen knew that the two men would make up eventually, even though Arthur was being a prat. Merlin, however, wore such a look of restrained pain and confusion that it broke her heart. As she held him tight, she wondered if _he_knew that they would make up.

For that reason, even though she figured that as Arthur's wife she was supposed to side with him automatically, she left the broken crockery near the fireplace in their room. She would glance over there repeatedly while she was in the room with Arthur, and wait for him to look over. There was no joy when she saw the grieved and guilty look on his face, but she knew it was for the best. The sooner that he accepted his friend for who he was, the sooner he wouldn't have to stare at the broken remnants of their friendship in the shards of crockery.

"Have you heard?"

Gwen's ears pricked up at the familiar furtive sound of servant gossip and edged closer to the chamber door. She edged closer, lifting up her skirts to keep the silk from whispering against the floor and giving her away.

"Heard what?"

"The king – he's bringing back magic!"

There was a long silence. "Mary, have you been at the cider again?"

A thud, followed by a grunt of pain. "No! I heard it with my own ears. Sophie heard it too!"

"About time," the other servant muttered under their breath, "do you think it has anything to do with Merlin?"

"Bet it has _everything_to do with Merlin," the other said, "that's why the king walked out and said something about trying to find him."

Gwen smiled and stood up, pushing open the door with more exuberance than was wise, given that the two servants were just outside the door.

"Your highness!" Mary said, curtseying and the other servant bowed.

"Are you two busy?" Gwen asked.

"No, my queen," the other servant said.

"Good," Gwen smiled, "Would you mind moving these broken dishes out of my chambers, please?"

Arthur allowed himself one moment of pacing before he turned and looked towards his men. The throne was a few feet behind him but he ignored it as he stepped closer to the knights, who were standing at attention, varying levels of dawning comprehension and confusion on their faces.

"My brothers," Arthur began, "I have brought you here today to discuss something vitally important to the future of Camelot." He took a deep breath. "It will mean a change. A very significant change to the way Camelot has been for the past few years, but I believe that it will be a change, ultimately, for the better."

The knights shifted a little in their confusion, although the remainder of the original Knights of the Round Table stood still and solemn in the face of the change. Arthur had to bite back a smile at their continuing loyalty before continuing. "Still, I rely on your thoughts as I rely on your support in battle. Do not hesitate to share your words about what I am about to tell you."

Arthur took a deep breath, and the knights leaned slightly forward. "I am taking the ban off of magic."

There was a moment of brief silence before a loud cacophony of rumbling voices answered him. Arthur held up a hand for silence. "I cannot hear you if you're all talking. Is there any to object to this decision?"

One of the knights, his face distorted and fire-scarred from the attack of Morgana and Agravaine on the citadel, stepped forward. "I…do not understand." He said, trying to keep his voice calm, although a faint tremor could be heard in the underlying tone. "We…the people of Camelot…have paid the price of magic over and over again. And now to bring it here," he shook his head, "would that not bring a greater price down on us?"

An older knight stepped forward as well, but turned to his fire-scarred brother and held up an arm. A long scar ran from his elbow to his wrist, a faint shine to the rise of flesh that told of a wound long healed. "Do you see this?" he asked, "Magic did this."

Arthur fought back a groan as the first knight nodded before saying, "People have suffered many injuries because of magic, I know."

"No," the older knight said, "that's not what I meant. This," he pointed at the injury, "should have killed me. It was at my second battle," he began, his eyes glazing over slightly in the memories of stronger sinew and strident youth, "and I had managed to take down two of our foes. But the third got the better of me," he grimaced, "and cut my arm, nearly down to the bone."

The older knight began to trace the scar with a kind of reverence. "By all rights I should be dead. I could feel the blood pooling beneath me even as the world seemed to fade away. But then, he appeared." He began to blink a bit more vigorously than usual, and some knights looked away. "A man that wore the clothing of the druids, who I had seen helping citizens of the lower city with cuts and burns, came over to me and knelt down. He ran his hand over my arm, not caring for the blood, and where there had been agony-" his voice got faint, awed, "there was strength and the lightness of no pain."

He shook his head. "I passed out before I could thank him. And then the Purge came…" He took a deep breath, "I never saw him again, never had the chance to repay him for what he'd done for me."

The older knight turned to the fire-scarred knight and smiled slightly. "We cannot judge all magic users by what Morgana has done…we must let them have the chance to prove themselves. To be thanked."

There was an odd sort of silence. Then Leon stepped up. "Sire?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"I agree with Donue," he nodded to the older knight, "I too owe the druids my life. I would not be here if not for their healing. I cannot condone an entire people for the spiteful actions of a few. Especially when it would condemn good people for something beyond their power."

Arthur nodded regally and thought Leon might have seen the grateful glint in his eye. He was about to speak when Percival cleared his throat. "Why now, your highness?" He boomed quietly, "What brought this decision on?"

Arthur steeled himself to speak, not sure how his brother knights would take the deception he was about to reveal. Even now that he had accepted it, and the beginnings of guilt had started to gnaw at the edges of his mind for being ungrateful to someone who had saved his life many times over, the lying had rankled. Even if it was the only way Merlin had thought he could survive.

That was another sore point that had to be addressed; but it was easiest to take it one step at a time.

"I know," Gwaine spoke without preamble, "it's because of Merlin, isn't it?" The remaining knights turned to look at him in confusion. "Well, Merlin has magic."

There was a shocked silence as the knights and king turned to face Gwaine, their mouths hanging open at varying angles of surprise. He looked at all of them, a familiar smirk tilting the corners of his mouth. "What, wasn't it obvious?"

~.~

"That was _you_?" Gwaine said, sounding more impressed than indignant, "you were the old man who trounced us?"

Merlin tried to look sheepish but only managed a smirk that spoke of how long he and Arthur had known each other. What remained of the original knights of the Round Table sat with Merlin around the (rectangular) table in Gaius' chambers, with Arthur looming quietly but noticeably in the background. He and Merlin still hadn't had much of time to chat in between the Incident and the current moment, but his stance of a bodyguard seemed to speak that he'd discovered where his trust lay. Although Merlin didn't think it was totally necessary to have a bodyguard protecting him against his friends, given that Percival and Leon had a blend of surprise and awe on their faces and Gwaine was still bellowing with laughter.

"Yeah, that was me."

"You used us for a stepping stool, mate!"

"Hey," Merlin replied, "You try climbing onto a horse when you're my age….I mean that age…I mean the age when I was…oh, skip it!"

Gwaine's laughter increased in heartiness, and the other two grinned to themselves as Arthur took a more relaxed stance in the doorway. Leon spoke up. "We are sorry about that, Merlin."

"About what?" Merlin puzzled. "Oh, trying to arrest me? That's fine, I got out of it easily enough anyway." The knights groaned, slight embarrassment smearing their cheeks red. "Besides, you were polite about it. Up until you started brandishing your swords about."

"Well, you with a beard didn't have the best reputation around here, you know?" Gwaine said, his smile receding a bit and becoming more serious.  
Merlin winced and looked over at the door where Arthur had grimaced at the thought of why Dragoon hadn't the best reputation. Although it had been explained that Morgana had been the cause of Uther's death, the hand Merlin had had in it caused a painful pang in both Arthur and Merlin.

"Yeah, I know."

"Why," Leon began, but then his voice caught in his throat. He cleared it laboriously and then spoke again, "Why did you never tell us?"

Merlin wished that he could stop hearing the tone of hesitant hurt he'd kept hearing in the voices of his friends as his secret had been revealed. He was glad that no one seemed keen on seeing his head separated from his neck, but the disappointment and hurt killed him. "It wasn't that I didn't trust you…there just wasn't enough…" he waved his hands ineffectively, "time."

"So," Percival spoke into the silence that had settled after Merlin's words, "What are we going to do now?"

"I don't suppose," Merlin said hopefully but resignedly, "that we could pretend that none of this ever happened and keep on going like we had before."

"Ruddy well think not," Gwaine said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "not after the revealing of your magic to the council, and the gossip, and Arthur telling the knights, and setting up the-"

"Gwaine!" Arthur cut in smoothly, his tone that of the diplomat while his gait had the rhythm of a commander striding into battle, "I have something I need you to do." He looked at the others. "All of you."

The knights stood as one, although they all looked puzzled and Gwaine opened his mouth to speak. Arthur waved them silent and turned halfway towards the door. "Time is of the essence, you have to go now." He held open the door pointedly, "Go to the stables, I'll join you presently."

The knights filed out, although all of them seemed loathe to have to abandon their conversation with Merlin, and Arthur turned to join them. Merlin stood up. "What's that all about, Arthur?"

"I can't say," Arthur said briskly.

"You're not going to tell me?" Merlin asked.

"You're hardly one to talk when it comes to keeping secrets, Merlin."

Arthur knew he'd made a poor choice of words when Merlin's face hardened and his eyes glinted blue ice. "I suppose not, sire." And without another word, he stood up and walked into his chambers, closing the door firmly behind him.

His friend grimaced and cursed vehemently under his breath as he stood in the doorway. He nearly took a step forward to try and mend what those words had done, but there was no time. Not if everything was going to fall into place in time. After wasting a few more minutes staring at the resolutely closed door that separated him from his closest friend, he shook his head firmly and turned to go.  
_  
It'll be worth it,_ he assured himself weakly, _Merlin will understand._

~.~

Wrapping her cloak tightly around her, Hunith stepped out from the warm friendliness of the tavern and into the steadily darkening countryside of Camelot. Even though it was late summer, the nights could be breezy and cold, and the chaotic winds seemed to mirror the tumultuous nature of her thoughts. Although she felt she knew what the king was like, Mary's opinions only strengthening her beliefs, she still wouldn't feel safe until she felt her son in her arms. Once she felt his mercifully whole and breathing body, she could finally set her mind at rest.

She hooked a foot in the stirrup of her horse and pulled herself on top. Despite the growing darkness and increasing winds, she would not let herself stop in her journey to Camelot.

Perhaps it was her absorption in her worried thoughts that distracted her from the shadows following her. Drunkeness made their steps heavy and their approach loud, but Hunith's focus on her destination dominated all other thoughts. A flash of cloth appeared at the edge of her periphery and as she turned to look at what was there, her horse reared back in fright, nearly toppling her to the ground.

Weaving her hands tightly through the horse's mane, Hunith looked frantically around, trying to figure out what was happening. Four men had completely surrounded her horse, and the poor steed was stomping its feet nervously, its eyes scanning for a possible escape.

"So," the tallest of the men slurred, and Hunith's heart sank as the smell of ale and overindulgence wafted over to her. She recognized the men now, they had been sitting at a table in the back of the tavern, getting so drunk that they eventually had to be tossed out. One had spat very closely in her direction, but she had assumed he was too drunk to see that he was still inside. But it seemed that was only wishful thinking. "Yer the one who's responsible for this –hic- monstrosity." He rubbed his arm across his mouth and stumbled to one side. "Yer the mother of that traitor who's gonna bring all the magic back. How's it feel, being responsible for such a freak?"

Fear, anger, and frustration boiled in Hunith's stomach so intensely that she thought she might choke on it. Instead her fingers fought hard for purchase in the horse's mane as she tried to jerk him away from the drunkards' clutching hands. However, one man got close to grab hold of her skirts and haul her to the ground.

Hunith hit the ground hard and groaned in pain, even as she struggled to get back to her feet. The man who pulled her down pushed her back effortlessly and laughed. "Pathetic," he sneered, "you unleash another spawn of evil onto the planet, and you can't even fight back." He kicked her in the side and she gasped, clutching her ribs.

The first man shoved her attacker out of the way and glared down at Hunith, who was struggling up on her elbows and looking straight into his eyes. Inwardly, she was bemoaning that her speed in leaving Ealdor kept her from bringing the dagger she had been given by Balinor all those years ago, but her outward appearance was calm and resolute. "Devil-woman," the man slurred, "I lost my entire family to magic – my wife, my little girls. And your bastard of a son is bringing it back. We were fine without it, I had a family without it." He raised up his fists, and a blade glinted in the moonlight. "And if I can't have a family, neither can he!"

The dagger swung down and Hunith closed her eyes.

"No!" A new male voice boomed with power and the clearing filled with light. All of the four drunkards flew backwards, and landed on their backs surrounding Hunith and the horse. Hunith lifted her neck weakly to see what had happened just as a figure in flowing robes came out into the moonlight. The man was tall and bald, and carried a long staff that did not seem to be for walking. "No one," he continued, in a voice that commanded as much as power as his yell, "will harm the mother of Emrys."

With that, he sent his hands flying in a movement of brisk power, and all four men sagged totally into the dirt. Trembling from the rush of adrenaline and fear that had pulsed through her during the attack, Hunith saw with some relief that their chests still rose and fell. The stranger had not killed them.

"Mother of Emrys," the voice of the stranger said almost reverently, and Hunith turned to see a callosed hand reaching down towards her, "don't be afraid. You're safe now."

Hunith allowed the man to pull her to her feet and forced herself not to look at the men behind her. "Thank you," she said, "who are you?"

"I," the man said, checking Hunith briefly over for damage, "am Alator of the Catha. I am here to show my support for Emrys. I was on my way to Camelot when I sensed his mother was in danger." He smiled in a solemn but warm way. "It is an honor to serve you." He bowed.

Hunith forced herself to keep from blushing and curtsied lightly in return. "The honor is mine. I cannot thank you enough."

Alator placed a hand beneath her elbow and steadied her. "My lady," he said, "it would bring me great pleasure to escort you to Camelot to see Emrys. I could never forgive myself if harm was to befall you, and anyway I can serve Emrys is an honor."

"Thank you." Hunith turned back to the horse. "Is he well enough to travel?"

Alator ran a hand carefully up and down the horse's neck, his eyes glowing gold. "He should be able to make the journey to Camelot's walls," he assured her, "but I would advise that we continue. The sooner we get to Camelot, the better it will be."

"Why?"

Boosting Hunith up into the saddle, Alator smiled at her. "You will soon see."

~.~

"Merlin," Arthur began and then closed his mouth. The words were not coming easily, and the fact that his best friend was giving him a stony but hurt look and his wife was standing in the doorway after she'd managed to find where Merlin had been hiding were not helping matters. "We need to talk."

"I assumed as much," Merlin's face was stony but his tone was weary. "What all do you want to know? I think I've told you pretty much everything."

Given the information Gaius had given him after the Incident, Arthur was pretty sure Merlin had left out a lot of the suffering he had undergone and at least a few of the good things he had done, but at this point, he wasn't going to press it. "I know," Arthur conceded, "I mean," he put one hand in his hair and gripped it tightly in frustration, "I need to talk. I'm sorry."

Merlin looked shocked, but Gwen looked pleased and smile broadly at the two of them. "You said you're sorry?" Merlin choked out, "What have you done with the prat?"

"Merlin!" Arthur barked and the familiar sound of the call made all three relax. "It's me and you know it, idiot. I shouldn't have yelled, or thrown all those plates at you. It's just…I didn't understand why you couldn't just tell me. I wouldn't have had you _killed_. Although," he groaned, "my yelling kind of made it obvious why you thought I wouldn't take it well."

"Arthur," Merlin replied, "I'm sorry too. I'm not sorry for using my magic to keep Camelot safe, but I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I thought about it, all the time…but the timing never seemed _right_."

"Well," Arthur said, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat, "you don't have to hide anymore."

The two regarded each other in silence for a few moments. And then both stepped forward at the time, extending their arms. As they clasped each other's arms, genuine smiles crossed their faces and everything seemed at peace. Both knew the conversations about Merlin's magic was going to keep on going, but for now, they had said all that needed to be said.

"Arthur," Leon said, appearing behind Gwen in the doorway, "she's not there!"

Arthur let go and spun to face Leon. "She's what?"

Merlin looked at Leon. "Who's what?"

"Oh no," Gwen said, placing her hands on her mouth, "Is there something wrong in Ealdor?"

Merlin turned to her. "What?"

Gwaine came behind Leon. "I don't where Hunith could be, I hope Merlin doesn't –" he saw Merlin standing stiffly in the room, "oh…"

Merlin turned to face Arthur, who looked torn between worry, frustration, and confusion. "Arthur…what's going on?"

Arthur started for the door. "I sent them to get your mother."

"Why would you-?" Merlin began, only to watch Arthur and the rest run downstairs, "Hey!"

Despite his long strides, Gwen managed to keep up with Merlin as he ran down the corridor and down the stairs, her long dress swishing behind her. "What's going on Gwen?" he choked out as they ran.

"Arthur sent them," Gwen panted, "to get your mother for…" She suddenly stopped talking, hoping that Merlin would think she was merely out of breath.

"Why, Gwen?" Merlin grunted, ducking as the two nearly crashed into one of the kitchen maids who was carrying a large platter of bread and cheeses.

"She's all right!" Gwen assured him, "It's for something good, I promise. I'm just surprised," she said as they ran towards the front doors of the castle, "that she wasn't there."

"Why wouldn't she be?" Merlin asked as they burst into the bright sunlight.

"Because she's already here," answered a new voice that made Merlin stop in his tracks. He looked around, blinking the world into focus, and saw his mother smiling at him. "Hello, Merlin."

"Passed her on the way there," Gwaine grinned, walking up behind Merlin and thumping him thoroughly on the back. "Don't know what Princess was so worried about, she already had an escort to get her here."

Merlin walked forward and enfolded his mother in a big hug, his heart thudding with emotion even as he felt the tremors of her happy laughter and the trickle of tears down his shoulder. "Mother," he stepped back, still not letting go, "is everything all right? Why are you here?"

"For you," Hunith smiled, reaching up one hand to brush his cheek, "I heard what happened, and, well…" she sniffed a little, her eyes bright, "I wanted to see if you were all right."

"I'm fine," he assured her, rubbing her shoulder in a comforting way, only for his hand to still as she winced. "Mother," he began, his eyes become cold ice, "did someone hurt you?"

Hunith gently removed his hand and placed it on her arm. "I fell from my horse…some men were there." Merlin's hands pulled back from her to clench into fists and she put her hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Merlin, Alator stopped them. I'm fine."

"Alator?" For the first time, Merlin turned and saw the man who had been standing besides Hunith.

The sorcerer got to his knees, clutching his staff, and bowed his head. "It is always an honor to serve you, Emrys."

"Oh, get up," Merlin smiled, "thank you. Thank you for keeping her safe." His eyebrows met as he realized something. "But what are you doing here? I thought you were abroad."

"I couldn't miss this day," Alator answered simply, "I had to witness it for myself. As," he stood up, sweeping a hand behind him to gesture to the crowds behind him, "did they."

Merlin looked at where he was gesturing and his mouth fell open. Dozens of people wearing Druid cloaks stood a distance behind where Alator and Hunith were standing, Iseldir at the front. As Merlin saw them, they all sank into kneeling positions. "Emrys."Merlin glanced back at his friends, all of whom looked pleased but shocked. He shrugged. "Yeah, I never get used to it either." He walked forward. "Hello, Iseldir."

"Emrys," Iseldir spoke as he rose to his feet, "long have we awaited this day. At times, we wondered if it would ever come to pass in our lifetimes. But it has."

"What has?"

"The return of magic," Iseldir said, almost blissfully, "the naming of you as Court Sorcerer."

"What?" Merlin turned around and looked at Arthur, who looked sheepish and a little disappointed, like a child who'd had a great surprise spoiled for him. "You're naming me what?"

"You didn't know, mate?" Gwaine asked, "I thought everyone knew that."

"Everyone but Merlin it seems," Leon returned with a bark of laughter.

"Well, isn't that typical," Arthur groaned, "so much for keeping it a secret. Might as well get on with it then."

"Get on with…"

"Your ceremony, you dunce. Really, I can't believe you were actually smart enough to prevent all you say you did. It must have been dumb luck."

Merlin snorted. "Prat." Then he blanched. "Wait, ceremony?"

Hunith smiled warmly at Gaius, who had been summoned to the courtyard and he grinned back. "He still hates public speaking, doesn't he?"

"More than my potions."

Hunith had to hide the giggles behind her hand. "Oh dear."

"Come on, Merlin," Arthur barked, "we've got to get you ready. The townspeople will be here within the hour. We have to get you dressed." He started shepherding Merlin towards the castle, Gwen hovering nearby and the knights flanking the sorcerer so he couldn't escape.

"Dressed?" Merlin groaned as he was forced up the stairs, "What's wrong with what I've got on?"

"Besides looking like a scruffy wanderer?" Arthur asked conversationally, "nothing much worse than usual. I'd rather not have my Court Sorcerer look destitute, what would that say about Camelot?"

"Fine," Merlin huffed as he was pushed through the doors, "but there not be any bloody hat."

Gaius and Hunith watched with amusement as the magical travelers watched with bemusement. "It's nice to know," Hunith said, placing a hand on Gaius' shoulder, "that some things never change."

~.~

In a manner typical of Camelot, all the townspeople showed up before the announcement was even formally made, and all stood beneath cheering. If it had been any other man than Merlin, there might have been more fear, but it was Merlin. There was trepidation, but mostly trust and hope, and the vision of a future with no executions based on the circumstances of one's birth.

Geoffrey recorded the event with all the flourish he could muster. He wrote of the king and queen standing as one, gesturing the sorcerer forward to make his speech. He wrote of the pride of the sorcerer's mother as she beamed from her spot to the side. He wrote of the cheers led by the remainder of the Knights of the Round Table when the sorcerer had finished speaking. He wrote of the golden sun and bright blue sky that seemed to send its blessing on the proceedings of the day.

And if he chose not to write about the sorcerer tripping on the robes the king had forced him to wear that was his business. If he also chose not to write about how the sorcerer turned the king's hair a bright turquoise in retaliation for laughing at him, it was because he'd run out of ink. And he also didn't mention the bellow of the king once the festivities were over, as he chased after his sorcerer, demanding his hair to be changed back.  
It was never written. It never had to be.

Not when it was kept alive in the jokes the friends remembered around the fire for years to come.

* * *

A/N: There it is. I hope you liked it!

Thanks for reading, and please review! They make me happy! ...and also would be a lovely Christmas present. *cough*

Merry Christmas!


	30. Til Death Do Us Part

Greetings Readers! Here is the latest oneshot, and it's sad. It also has massive spoilers for the last episode, so you have been warned.

Warnings: 5x13 spoilers, grief, character death

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

* * *

Wearing the nightdress Arthur had given her on their first anniversary, Gwen sat beside the bed, her fingers idly tracing the threads in the hem of the nightclothes. They had been pulled back, revealing the soft comfort of the sheets and the accommodating plumpness of the pillows. Letting her eyes close, Gwen brushed her hand over the top of the linen, trying to let the familiar sensation soothe her. Beside her, a candle flickered.

If she squinted her eyes in just the right fashion, it was like she could see the golden head of her husband denting the pillow. But then her eyes flooded with tears and she couldn't see anything anymore.

The king was dead. But the queen lived on.

All day she had had to be strong. Even amongst her friends, she had to bite back her tears and be every inch the competent and strong queen. She had not had the chance to be the grieving wife.

Alone in the flickering darkness, Gwen allowed herself to grieve.

Her maids seemed to sense the tension in her, as any maid worth her salt would be able to ascertain about her mistress, and so every care had been taken into preparing her and the bedchambers for bed. They did not remove Arthur's pillows or adjust the bedclothes to feature prominently in the center for the lone occupant in the bed, but they did take care to place an extra pitcher of water on the bedside table, along with a dish of grapes that they knew were her favorite comfort food.

Gwen appreciated the gesture, but everything was so full and heavy that she could not even think of bringing a grape to her lips. She wanted to sleep and sleep, and to wake up with her husband, smiling and prattish and wonderful, propped up on an elbow to better look at her.

The tears ran afresh, and she took her hand away from the bed, with half a mind to sleep in a chair that night. Or possibly not sleep at all.

Gwen did not even have to feel the drooping of her eyelids or the ache of exhaustion deep within her bones to know that was folly. Steeling herself, she leant forward and blew out the candle, getting into bed before she could remember how Arthur used to tug her bodily into bed or imagine his arm across hers as they slept.

The one mercy of her grief was that it was exhausting, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, Gwen succumbed to the pull of sleep.

It was somewhere in the interim of late evening and early morning that Gwen awoke to the brushing of something warm and gentle across her face. She blinked her eyes open and looked up to see the face of her husband gazing down at her.

She blinked a few times and then closed her eyes tightly shut, pushing her head firmly into the pillow and moving it back and forth. "No," she murmured, just under her breath, "you're seeing things, you're seeing things."

"Gwen…" The warm, gentle touch moved to her shoulder, at once caressing and steadying.

"I'm going mad," she murmured feverishly, tears of frustration and grief trickling from her closed eyes and matting the fabric of the pillow, "I can't go mad, I can't. Not with everyone relying on me, not with trying to make Arthur proud-"

"Guinevere." The tone, amused and affectionately exasperated, was so much like Arthur's that it stole her breath away and she sat upright in surprise.

Gwen allowed her eyes to slide open and she looked in front of her to see the poignantly smiling figure of her husband, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand on her shoulder. She swallowed hard and valiantly tried to ignore the tears brimming at her eyes. "Arthur?"

Arthur nodded and rubbed her knee, a little shyly, as he had been when they had first properly begun courting. "It's me, Gwen."

"You mean, you're not-" Gwen couldn't speak any more.

Arthur's eyes grew unspeakably sad, and he squeezed her knee, which was beginning to tremble. "No," he replied, "I am." He moved forward a little to caress her cheek and the moonlight streaming through the windows caught on his figure. The color of his skin and clothing was nearly silvery in the moonlight, and he looked a bit like solid smoke moving as he came closer. But the warmth and the pressure of his hand felt real.

"But then – how?" Gwen wondered aloud, moving forward to better feel his hand on her cheek and nervously moving her hands forward to brush through his hair. It was ethereal yet solid, and showed no risk of dissipating beneath her touch.

Arthur leaned forward and placed his lips against hers. Both their eyes slid shut and Gwen shivered with pleasure as the ghostly arms wound themselves around her, feeling incredibly precious. "I'm not sure how," Arthur whispered against her collarbone, placing several lingering kisses along her shoulder, "but I'm not questioning it. And," he pulled back, looking at her, "I came because I couldn't leave you without saying goodbye."

Gwen could feel a million questions brewing in her mind, nearly crowding her heart and soul in their impatient insistence to know everything. But she pushed them all aside. Without being told, she knew this moment was not going to last forever, and that she could think of many other things she'd rather do now then clutter it up with questions.

"I wish you didn't have to," she whispered, kissing him firmly on his warm, slightly chapped lips. Arthur moaned beneath the feeling and pulled his wife closer, feeling the rush of her breath and pounding of her heart as though it were his own. He looked at her reverently before brushing kisses against her neck, her jaw line, her nose, and the spot behind her ear that made her both giggle and sigh.

"So do I," he said, before moving onto her mouth, kissing her. Arthur pulled her close and Gwen entwined her arms around his neck and the kiss grew more passionate, the rush of heat engulfing Gwen's entire body. She pulled him even closer and slid onto her back on the bed, his weight moving just to the side as he lay next to her.

Gwen absorbed every kiss and caress into her mind, storing it away in her mind, preparing in times of abundance for the years of famine ahead. But it was hard to think of the years ahead when Arthur held her as he did, like a treasure, like she was water to a man dying of thirst. When the need for air became too much, she fell away from Arthur, cursing her lungs as she struggled for breath.

Arthur brushed her cheek that she suddenly realized was damp with tears and she smiled shakily up at him. The intermingled pain and love in his eyes made her heart clench with some poignant emotion that she could not have named. Wordlessly, he drew her into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder, and rocked her slowly as she continued to cry. His hands continued to brush against the bare skin of her shoulders, her hair, her face, as though committing the sensations to memory, but he did nothing more, waiting for what she needed.

When the tears had mostly subsided, Gwen shuddered against Arthur's shoulder. "I don't want you to go," she whispered against his shoulder.

"I don't want to leave," he replied, sadly, "but we know I have to. I'm not even sure how I came here to begin with. Although it probably had something to do with Mer-"

Arthur stopped, stiffening a little, and Gwen moved one hand to rub slowly down his back. "It's all right, I know."

"Did he tell you?"

"No," she smiled at the amusedly affronted tone, "I figured it out."

"Clever," he smiled against her neck, kissing it, "my clever Guinevere."

"Will you," she swallowed hard and she felt his arms tightening around her, comforting her, "will you be here in the morning?"

"I don't know," he answered, "but I will stay with you until you are asleep."

The call of the crow startled Gwen from her sleep and she sat upright, looking around for the form of her husband. No one was there.

_Was it only a dream?_

As she hid her face in her hands, determined to get one last moment of grief before donning the mask of the efficient queen, she brushed a sore spot on her neck and gasped. With shaking hands she reached for a hand mirror and peered into it.

There on her neck was the mark of her husband's lips. And at the top of her nightdress's neckline lingered a blond hair that hadn't been there the day before.

Gwen pulled the hair from the dress and put it securely in the bedside table. Then she brushed her fingers lingeringly over the mark, smiling poignantly as the maids knocked to come in.

It was the first time after Camlann that Gwen saw her love. It was also the last.

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A/N: That was a bit sad. I blame the fanvideo I saw that gave me the idea - all it had was Arthur comforting Gwen, and of course I go for the sad thing.

I hope you enjoyed it, regardless.

Thanks for reading and please review!


	31. In Memoriam

Greetings Readers! Here's a new oneshot - I know it's been a while. I hope you enjoy!

Warning: This thing is angsty as all get out. Spoilers for end of series.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

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The old man sat on the splintery steps of his home, a cup of steaming tea perched on the saucer on his knees. The tiny hut was beyond the streets and lights of the city, resolute, self-sufficient, alone. The only light that could be seen was in the small kerosene lantern at the old man's feet, which sent sparks of flickering light across the waters of the surrounding lake.

Taking a long sip of the tea, the old man closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cool air before letting it fog out into mist before him. In the flickering light, the mist seemed to take on the guise of a dragon before it faded out over the lake.

The old man set aside the cup and saucer with a flash of his eyes and stretched out against the steps, groaning in appreciation as his joints creaked and popped before setting comfortably into the wood and grass. Darkness had long since fallen, and there was no way to tell how late in the night it was. The old man didn't care; he had stopped caring about the passage of time decades ago.

He no longer was impatient, he was far too tired.

_Merlin…_

The old man shook his head almost casually, as though the movement would shake the cobwebs of memory from his mind. It was most likely senility. The gods knew he'd been around long enough to develop at least a little. Or it could have been the shot of whiskey he'd poured in his teacup.

"Still can get drunk off a barmaid's apron, it seems," he chuckled to himself, albeit humorlessly.

_Merlin…_

He thought of drinking more of the tea to entrench himself in delusion more thoroughly, but couldn't muster the effort. If the whispers of his past wished to fill his mind, they would do so regardless of whatever he did; fate was inevitable. At his age, it wasn't worth the energy to attempt to prevent or expedite the process.

"Wonder if I'm going mad," he spoke to himself in the cool darkness. "Mad Merlin…and it only took centuries after that name was given to me. Although the heavens knew I was mad enough about it when I first read it." He chuckled. "Ah well, why bemoan the writers their fun. They only besmirch with the words. Over the years, I've done far worse."

_Merlin…that's not true. _

"Not true?" he snorted. "I've so much blood on my hands I'm surprised my nails don't reek of the stuff. I did worse when I was trying to do good."

_But Merlin…you have done such good. You've made mistakes, but what man hasn't? _

"But I'm not a man, though, am I?" Merlin replied. "I'm a creature of the Old Religion…a monster, really. I was right all those years ago…" He brought both hands to rub resignedly at his closed eyes. "And now I'm answering voices that aren't there. I am now most definitely senile. I hope I'm senile enough to not be able to use magic. A failing mind and limitless mind can only breed disaster."

_Merlin…my boy…you were never a monster! _

The whispers in his mind now sounded male, both scolding and soothing, in the tones he had not heard for eons. If it wouldn't have been childish, the old man might have plugged his ears against the sound. As it was, he let his arms fall to his side and let his eyes slowly blink open.

What looked like the ghostly figures of his love and his surrogate father stood before him, the water lapping at their heels, their forms luminescent in the glow of the kerosene lamp. The old man sighed and rubbed an eye idly. "I need to look at that whiskey again, I think there's something terribly wrong about it." He laughed. "Either that, or terribly right."

_Merlin_, the version of his love spoke again, _it's really us. We're really here! _

"Sure you are," the old man replied, a degree of gentleness in his tone. "Hallucinations are always perfectly present to those who see them. But they're not real." He waved a hand. "You all can go back now – if you want to mess with the mind of an old man, I warn you the job's practically been finished. No fun to be had here."

_Fun? _His love replied, and her voice caught in her throat as she reached beseechingly towards him. _Merlin, this is not fun for me…_

The old man shook his head and smiled kindly. "I don't mind you having your fun. Where else will hallucinations find it? I'm just warning you, I'm hardly good sport."

_Freya is telling the truth, Merlin_, the hallucination of his mentor began, stepping in front of the vision of loveliness clutching a fist to her mouth. _We are not here for that. We are here – _

"Need more whiskey," the old man muttered to himself, reaching for the cup.

_Getting soft, aren't you mate? _A new ghostly voice countered, and the old man looked up to see a cocky ghostly form swagger just beyond the reach of the lake, casting the long locks of hair out of his face with a casual stretch of the neck. _We used to go through caskets of ale, and now all you need is whiskey. _

"Lies and slander," the old man countered. "You used to go through casks of ale, and I would drag your drunken arse back to the castle after paying for it."

_Ah yes_, the hallucination smiled. _Those were good times. _

"Not for my pockets or my back!" the old man smiled back. "And that's not even counting the extra chores Arthur would make me do afterwards, the prat."

_Still not showing me the proper respect, are you, Merlin? _A new voice teased, but the old man shut his eyes against the sound, turning slightly so that his shoulder faced the apparition. He grabbed the teacup and gulped the rest of the drink down, shuddering at the glow of whiskey amidst the coldness of the tea.

"That's really not fair," he rasped, the slump of his shoulders painfully pronounced. "I understand that you must seek your fun somewhere, but must you remind me of that? The greatest mistake of all?" He took a great swig of tea that had somehow reappeared in the cup. "I cursed all of you enough when you weren't hallucinations, but my failure to protect – " he swallowed hard. "To protect…you…was the worst of all. All I tried to do was keep you safe, and I couldn't even do that."

_Merlin…_ a new female voice joined in, _you did your best. No one could fault you for that. And you helped me so much when he was gone. _

"That didn't change my failure, Gwen," the old man began and then stopped to drink more tea. "And now, I'm talking to the hallucinations. And expecting answers." He shook his head.

_Merlin. _The first voice was compassionate but sharp, and he looked towards her silvery face. _Stop it. Do you think we are here to condemn you? _

The old man looked back towards the rest of the lake. The shore was now nearly crowded with ghostly forms. He saw his father with his arm around his mother. He saw Gaius. He saw Lancelot, Percival, and Gwaine. He saw Leon and Elyan. He saw Gwen. He saw Freya.

He saw Arthur.

"I deserve it, certainly." The old shoulders raised and lowered listlessly. "So have at it."

There was silence. These were odd hallucinations, to go silent now that he allowed them their time to speak.

"I'm sure there's plenty to say," he began gently, prompting them. "How about how I lied to almost all of you? How I didn't trust hardly anyone with my secret?"

Silence.

"It was my fault that most of you died, you know," he continued. "Lancelot, I should have been able to get to the portal before you did. Father, it's my fault that you were in the path of that sword. Gwaine, Elyan," he rubbed his eyes. "If I'd taken out Morgana earlier, or if I'd never forced her hand all those years ago, you never would have died through her actions." He chuckled bitterly. "I'm surprised she's not here, actually. She'd have plenty to contribute I'm sure."

_Merlin, you were the one who helped me rule when Arthur was gone…you and Leon and Percival helped me to carry on. _

"I still managed to get your husband killed." The old man sighed. "The one thing I tried to accomplish above all, and I couldn't even handle it."

_To be fair, _the smug-faced shadowy figure replied, although his smirk seemed too solemn, _protecting the Princess is a hard job. Only man I ever met who could nearly get killed by a bracelet. _

The shadowy figure with the flowing cloak and rune-covered sword punched the smug figure in the shoulder and the others laughed, their laughter filling the otherwise silent clearing. The old man smiled a little but didn't laugh.

"Well, it's my fault that Morgana became the way she was – or at least I helped," he amended when the shadowy figures seemed to want to contradict him. "And I helped steer Mordred away too." He smiled knowingly at the hallucination of his king. "And he could have been a great asset – I always thought you liked him better than me before he defected to Morgana."

The hallucination gave a start as though he'd been slapped, and there was a regretful sorrow in his eyes. The old man blinked curiously, he hadn't known that hallucinations could be so expressive. _Merlin, you idiot_, the hallucination faltered, _I never did. _

"He at least knew his way around a sword," the old man replied. "And he was a knight. Never did manage that."

_I always said he should have knighted you. You were the bravest of us all, and he never even knew._

I did at the end.

The figure of his king moved closer. _Merlin, I always knew. _

The old man wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, noting with some disgust the tears gathering there.

_Oh, my Merlin, _the first voice crooned, drawing closer. _You are so tired. You have been here so long, waited for so long. _

"Don't taunt me," the old man gasped brokenly. "I can stand the wait. I have no other option. But please do not mock me with what I must endure."

_Merlin, it is time. _And with that, the figure of his love placed her hands on either side of his face.

The hands felt warm. And solid. And real.

He looked up in shock to meet the warm loving gaze of his Freya. _It's time, Merlin_, she whispered, tears beading in her beautiful eyes. _It is time for you to enjoy the rest of Avalon. _

"You're – you're –"

A warm hand, calloused from a lifetime of wielding a sword, landed on his shoulder. _Now you're catching on, Merlin. You always liked to be late, but waiting for centuries really is pushing it. _The joke faded out of his friend's eyes and his face softened into a gentle, welcoming smile. _It's time, Merlin. Come with us. Come home. _

The ghostly figures came close to the porch, to crowd around the shaking shoulders of the final sentinel, their most faithful friend. The man pushed up from the wooden steps and stood on his own, before he was folded into the arms of his friend and king. Gwen followed suit as soon as her husband released him, and the knights ruffled his hair and cuffed his shoulders as though he were a boy again. His mother kissed his cheek, and both his fathers hugged him with a proud fierceness.

He looked for his love, who stood at the edge of the lake, holding out her hand towards him and smiling. Surrounded by those he had befriended and served, Merlin took eager steps towards the lake, his age falling from his limbs and features. It was with the hands that had first caressed her face that he took Freya's hand, and with the same youthful bashfulness that he kissed her.

Gwaine jeered appreciatively, and Merlin sent a wave of water towards him with a nonchalant wave of his hand. He smiled down at Freya, who squeezed his hand, and turned towards the lake.

And so it was that, with his love's hand in his, his loved ones surrounding him like a guard, and his friend and king's arm about his shoulders, Merlin entered the waters of Avalon.

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A/N: And there you are. Thanks for reading and please review!


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